It's Just a Scratch
by MissHaunted-MoonLight
Summary: ‘It’s just a scratch,’ he says. Too bad his blood red eyes say different. The Doctor’s becoming a vampire, and Martha’s life is in danger yet again.
1. Goodbye, Lodemai!

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** It's Just a Scratch  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 011 - Red  
**Word Count: **31'655  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary: **'It's just a scratch,' he says. Too bad his blood-red eyes say different. The Doctor's becoming a vampire, and Martha's life is in danger yet again.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** Three cheers for morbidness! Hip hip hooray!

**A/N 2:** Now, before you bite me for starting _yet another _story, this one's already fully written so I'll be updating probably daily … or at the most every _two _days … and it ain't really that long … so n'yea. Enjoy, brothers and sisters of the night!

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**1.**

The screams and cries of a thousand dying souls chased them through the chaos like ghosts. The asphalt ground beneath their feet was scorching, enhanced by the pain-racked yells of a failing planet.

And still they ran on, lungs burning, eyes watering, breaths short and piercing, stabbing into their chests like a hundred sharpened knives.

Exhaustion was snapping at their heels, and the shrieks were getting louder. Harsher.

With a despairing glance over her shoulder, Martha's eyes widened in horror as the flying creatures - closely resembling giant bats - swooped down upon them, claws outstretched and inhuman screeches primed for release.

"_Doctor_!" she screamed, turning back and shooting a sideways look to her weakening partner, who's once tan trench coat, now blackened with dirt and dust, was flapping about his ankles as if on a makeshift wind. His distinctly ruffled hair was stained scarlet, and the once spotless, brown suit now clung desperately to his stick-thin form, ripped and even redder than his hair, tainted by an entire species' lifeblood.

As well as his own.

A week in captivity had not worked out so well for him.

Though, saying that, Martha highly doubted _she_ looked any better off. So scratch that.

A week in captivity had not worked out so well for _them_.

With a dry sob, Martha _willed_ herself to run on. Much to her relief, the Doctor had spotted their predicament for himself, and was forcefully doubling their pace. Groping hurriedly for her hand, he gave it a reassuring squeeze as their fingers interlocked and tugged her encouragingly on.

"Come on!" he shouted, lungs protesting and causing his command to escape more along the lines of a strained croak than anything else; a mere glimmer of what he'd hoped for. "Not far, now!"

Martha's eyes were as wide as saucers.

How _did_ he do it? Damnit, they were close to death, and yet _still _he was so full of life, so full of energy, so full of adrenaline as they yet again found themselves running for their lives.

So close to death, he may have _looked_. But he sure wasn't _acting_ like it.

Yet another scream reached her ears, and Martha pushed on, legs objecting beneath her, threatening to crumble to the ground mid-step. But she ignored them.

Well, that is, she ignored them for as long as she possibly could.

Which in fact only turned out to be a few further steps.

Then her legs really _did_ give out beneath her.

With a cry of despair, Martha was sent tumbling to the floor, unwillingly dragging the Doctor down with her. Her hands hit the ground first and with a small choking sob, she drew them into her chest, cradling them as they blistered before her very eyes, the heat from the pavement biting remorselessly into her skin.

"_Martha_!"

Through a hazy film of tears, Martha glanced up to see the Doctor staring at her, sweat-laced face mere inches from her own, his large, mesmerizing eyes staring at her, soulful and urgent.

"I can't," she moaned, light-headedness claiming her as the planet rocked in warning around them. His voice was sliding into and out of focus - quite graciously, she decided - and she didn't have a clue what he was saying.

Fighting back the nausea and the tempting blackness, Martha vaguely found herself being half-dragged, half-carried forwards, thin but strong arms coaxing her hastily on.

But just as her senses were beginning to realign themselves, just as the ground began to stabilise beneath her feet, Martha felt said thin but strong arms vanish suddenly. No warning given, her own desire for balance was the only thing that stopped her from hitting the roasting pavement for the second time in as many minutes.

The world spinning, Martha glanced towards where the Doctor had been supporting her moments ago to see him kneeling on the ground, a hand pressed firmly against his neck as he swatted desperately at one of the flying beasts as it came about, intending to attack its fallen prey a second time.

A flying beast much larger and faster than the rest of them.

Quite obviously their leader.

And Martha was suddenly fully fit once more; nausea, dizziness and exhaustion gone in less than a heartbeat.

"Oh God, Doctor," she murmured, dashing to his side and reaching down, sliding an arm underneath his and yanking him up again, the tables turning almost too quickly to be believable.

Seconds ago, _he'd_ been supporting _her_!

"It's alright, Doctor, I've got you!" she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Shaking her head to rid it off the encroaching fuzz, she gazed almost absently at his neck as she tugged him on, a gasp of horror escaping her lips as she spotted the unfurling trickles of red that were sliding out from between his splayed fingers.

But she had no time to dwell.

And he had no time to suffer.

The vampires were feet behind them, and their leader appeared to be swooping around for the kill.

With a loud wail of determination, Martha dragged the Doctor on, forcing him to find his own feet after a moment as she readjusted her position, relieving herself of all of his weight as he struggled to support himself.

Their eyes met, for the briefest of brief moments.

And the Doctor was soon grinning manically at her.

Martha's raised eyebrows had to be answer enough, because she couldn't find her voice amidst the pains in her chest.

But turning to face ahead of her again, she soon realized why the Doctor's spirits had lifted so dramatically.

There was the TARDIS, standing tall and proud just ahead of them, the blue police box providing a stark contrast against the bloodstained streets.

Against the pools of red all around them …

Shuddering slightly, Martha pushed _that_ undesired image away and released one final spurt of previously undiscovered speed, surprising even the Doctor as he hurried on beside her, fumbling around in his breast pocket for what was undoubtedly the TARDIS key.

"Um, I don't want to hurry you, but …" She left her hoarse shout hanging, burnt hands extended to provide a suitable braking system as they collided with the Doctor's time ship. The aftershock rocked her arms almost enough to send her flying, but she stood fast, turning to stare frantically over her shoulder.

They were getting closer.

"I'm trying!" he yelled back, reverting her desperate gaze from _them_ to _him _in time to see his eyes jam shut as he tore desperately at his suit jacket, mentally begging the key to reveal itself.

To her nauseated horror, even as she watched, the trickles of red that were slithering steady paths down his neck appeared to be growing in ferocity. Be it down to his alien DNA or the fact that vampire bats could create one _hell_ of a vicious claw wound, those streaks of scarlet blood were _not_ a good sign.

That scratch was deep.

_Impossibly_ deep.

And yet the Doctor was hiding the obvious pain incredibly well, if indeed he'd even noticed it at all.

Well, in all honesty, it couldn't have hurt much more than the rest of his body did right at that particular moment in time.

If he was suffering as much as she was, he was probably so used to the pain by now that he could barely feel it anymore. Martha had reached that 'total bodily numbness' stage already herself, so it was probably more than likely that the Doctor had too.

After a few seconds, he withdrew his hand and roughly pushed past her, shoving the key frenetically into the keyhole and twisting with more force than was necessarily wise. He'd have knocked her over, had he not extended an arm to catch her. With a small smile of gratitude from Martha, both turned back one final time to glance over their shoulders at their pursuers.

Just in time to see the many winged creatures shudder to a halt in midair, some transforming into their living-dead forms and fluttering to the ground while others remained in bat form, screeches of rage and disgust escaping their howling mouths.

Their red eyes gleamed with hatred.

Then with one final shuddering breath, both Martha Jones and the Doctor tumbled over the threshold, leaving the door to slam itself shut behind them.

The screams of a dying planet were cut short.

The screeches of a predator denied its prey were silenced.

And as the time rotor slid slowly into life, emerald lights flashing, _winking_ questioningly at them from the centre of the room – possibly even in admonishment against them leaving her alone for such a long time - neither Martha nor the Doctor could notice a thing as the blackness claimed them, the burning, searing red eyes of the creatures outside haunting their restless dreams.

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**Hmm, strangely enough, I actually _enjoyed_ writing this one ...  
So I'd definately love to hear what you think! Please feel free to comment! I give cyber-cookies to reviewers! ;)**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	2. Oh Dear

**It's Just a Scratch  
b****y  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thank you shouts go out to **izzfrogger, Shrink To Be, Tai Greywing (big hugs, love ya girl), Emela **and** Cute Gallifreyan!

'**Human Nature' tonight! (Giddy Dance)**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**2.**

The ground was moving.

Pain would usually have been the first thing to trigger movement from an unmoving life form, but _this time_ it lost the fight to something so bizarre, so _normal _that it was almost happy to resurface in second place.

The Doctor groaned, his mind a hazy mush of pain and … strangely enough, _blood lust_.

He was hungry.

_Famished_, even.

Starving.

Starving and in pain.

…

And they were moving.

The TARDIS was in flight …

Now _generally_, when his ship decided to take matters into her own engines, there was a problem. But what was the problem this time?

It couldn't be _him_ … could it?

With a faint whimper, he shuddered against the harsh coolness of the metal grating beneath him and let his eyes flutter slowly open, blinking them into misty focus.

The first thing he spotted was his companion, lying motionless feet from him, her chest rising and falling slowly as she curled in on herself, shivering, hands over-crossing one another at their position beside her face.

The blue veins at her slender, ashen wrists were standing out against the delicious paleness of her skin…

Gasping slightly and snapping himself from a horrifyingly morbid stupor before it could envelop him completely, the Doctor shook his head a fraction, willing the fuzziness to diminish.

It took him a further few seconds to notice the big mistake that was going completely against his natural metabolism too.

There was a faint, pinkish tinge to his vision.

Which was weird.

Sure, he was struggling to focus on one object for much longer than a couple of seconds at the moment, but that was still no reason for his eyesight to have _changed colour_!

Perhaps it was down to the headache he'd more than likely gained from hitting his head against the floor when they'd practically flown into freedom before.

Or maybe it was a side-effect to one of the many experiments he'd been subjected to over the course of the past week…

… …

Poor Martha.

His aching eyes spotted the bruises that littered her once flawless skin, the abrasions that maimed her, and the half-healed cuts that would need to be cleaned before infection could spread.

Had she been put through it all, as well? She didn't deserve it. _Nobody_ did…

And it was nothing short of a _miracle_ that neither he nor Martha had been bitten during the course of the week. Hell knew there'd been more than enough close encounters. Even with the foggy memory, he could count their four failed escape attempts, not to mention the unexpected aid from Ophelia that had resulted in her death for treason but little reward for himself and his companion.

One truly genuine vampire amongst an army of blood-thirsty psychos … and he'd been forced to stand there and watch as her heart was stabbed clean with one of the pointiest stakes he'd ever seen in his life.

Martha had been inconsolable, bless her.

And even now the guilt was nothing short of overwhelming …

With a grim smile of satisfaction, the Doctor recalled the dying screams of a failing planet, and could only thank Rassilon that he'd managed to put a stop to those 'experiments' before anybody else suffered at the hands of the Haemovamps.

Lodemai was no more.

Just another planet contributing to the rocks, rubble and dust of deep space.

For a _whole week_, damn near, the Doctor had struggled against his inhibitions. He didn't want to have to resort to genocide.

He didn't _want_ to be the destructor of yet another planet. Yet another civilization.

But as the 'experiments' became more and more sadistic, and as his worries for Martha's welfare reached the forefront of his mind, those inhibitions were soon quelled into non-existence.

And Ophelia's murder had tipped the balance sky-high, destroying said inhibitions without a second thought.

This planet _deserved_ to die.

And now it had.

And if he felt even a twinge of remorse, Martha's look of vulnerability soon crushed it.

He could feel an irrational anger bubbling beneath his veins, but he stilled it, struggling instead into an upright position and dragging himself slowly to her side, placing a shaking hand on her shoulder.

"Martha?" he whispered softly.

Then he frowned, straightening up a little.

Had his voice _always_ sounded like that?

There was a tantalizing, mesmerizing thrum to it, a low rumble of hoarse beauty that sounded chilling yet soothing at the same time, even to his own ears.

_Surely_ that wasn't normal?

Clearing his throat slightly, he tried again, deciding to shake Martha's shoulder at the same time.

"Martha, can you hear me?"

No.

And there it was again.

The Doctor wasn't sure whether he should consider it as being weakness or beauty.

While it had an underlying tone of weakened distress about it, the almost ethereal quality that overrode it was haunting.

"Oh dear," he half-whispered, then jammed his mouth shut as the hoarse, freakish words fluttered like butterflies around his head.

This was a problem.

And the TARDIS didn't trust him enough at the moment to allow him to fly her – explaining why they were moving without his say so.

Not sure whether to take that as brilliance on her part or as an insult to his driving skills, the Doctor shuddered, an aching need amassing somewhere just beyond the tip of his mind.

An aching desire to feed.

With a despairing glance at the TARDIS console, which bleeped back at him in concern but otherwise did nothing, he strengthened his shaking grip upon Martha's shoulder and shook her with a tad more urgency than before.

'_Don't speak, don't speak, don't speak!_'

To his well-disguised relief, Martha finally stirred, her eyes fluttering sluggishly beneath closed lids and a soft moan escaping her parted lips.

Withdrawing slightly, the Doctor risked it once again, feeling hungrier by the second.

And now he understood why.

"Martha? Can you hear me?" he whispered, cursing himself for adopting that creepy ethereal vampire voice.

Much to his own distress, Martha's head nodded obediently.

She simply couldn't stop herself.

"Good," he murmured as quietly as he could, _willing_ himself to keep the seductive tones to a bare minimum. It didn't work too well, though. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

They shot open submissively, blinking rapidly against the dim light of the Console Room.

The Doctor sighed heavily but said nothing, choosing to nod his appraisals instead.

Well, that was until she screamed and scurried desperately away from him, eyes wide as dinner-plates and a blistered hand flying to her mouth in horror as all memory of sleep, illness and the death of a distant planet vanished from her mind.

"_Doctor_?" she whispered fearfully, staring at him in shock.

The Doctor half-nodded, struggling to tear his gaze from the pulsing azure veins that seemed all the more pronounced now that she was up and about…

"Doctor, your _eyes_!"

She pointed a quivering finger at him, and the Doctor responded by blinking rapidly and turning away, hurrying to his feet and focusing solely on ridding his mind of the desire to taste her.

Of the insatiable ache to feel her blood trickling like water down his parched throat…

'_No, damnit! Snap out of it!_'

"Doctor, your _neck_!"

Her tones were anxious, her gaze unsteady. She'd stumbled haphazardly to her feet by now and was sorely tempted to put as much distance between herself and the Doctor as possible. Yet the other half of her refused to budge an inch.

"It's just a scratch," he offered tentatively, but was quickly forced to slap a hand over his mouth yet again when he spotted Martha making forwards as though she'd been pulled to his side by invisible wire.

"_No_!" he snapped, stumbling backwards and hurrying around her to stand beside the console instead, putting it between himself and her.

Martha blinked and stepped away, backing up until she found herself pressed firmly against the closed door, her eyes in great danger of jumping right out of their sockets.

"Doctor, please tell me you're just messing about," she asked of him fearfully.

But the Doctor remained silent this time.

And Martha already knew the truth because it was staring right at her.

"But … b-but I thought they could only turn you if they _bit_ you!" she demanded, faintly awestruck by this new revelation, yet at the same time attempting in vain to fall straight through the closed door behind her.

"Apparently not," he risked, turning away from her in the hopes that his words may have less of an impact if he wasn't staring right at her.

It half-worked. She only took a couple of steps towards him before she managed to catch herself and hurry backwards again.

"So … so like in the stories, there's an automatic pull. I'd always wondered how that worked," she murmured forced-calmly, more to herself than to him, trying to make sense out of an impossible situation. "In, like, books and stuff, they reckon a vampire in need of food has an unpreventable knack for drawing in their next meal. Seems they were right."

The horror was gradually diminishing now. Now that she was fully awake and capable of assessing the situation, this was simply yet another adventure for them. Yet another marvel for her to wonder over.

Waking up to see the Doctor staring hungrily at her through scarlet orbs that had, at last sight, been a beautiful shade of brown was quite a disturbing image. But the shock was wearing off now as the seriousness of their predicament hit home.

But an underlying fear was soon rearing its ugly head as she spotted the lustful stare he was mutely sending her way, despite his best efforts to ignore her presence completely.

Beneath her ribs, her heart was racing.

But she ignored it.

"So um … is there any way to reverse it?" she asked false cheerily, trying to lighten the mood slightly but failing abysmally as the weak quiver penetrated her words. She swallowed hard, then tried again. "I've never heard of a vampire's scratch converting someone. Like, with a bite, you have to kill the vampire that bit you or take out the coven's king or queen, I remember that much … but does the same apply for scratches?"

It sounded so weird, her voice being the one to do all the talking for once.

Almost unnatural in this fast-becoming-familiar environment.

This was the Doctor's territory, and yet _she_ was the one going off on the mad ramble when it was usually his trade-mark.

Still, the less talking he did right now, the safer she'd be.

To her relief, he seemed to have grasped onto that fact as well, because his response was a half-shrug accompanied by a mad dash to the monitor on the central column. He stood gazing raptly at it for a few seconds, and then started typing furiously on the keyboard beneath it, tongue between his teeth and his ruby-red eyes aglow.

Martha released a slow breath of respite and ran a quivering hand across her forehead.

He'd sort this out. No worries.

He'd be back to his eccentric self in a minute, and then Martha needn't worry at all about her becoming a vampire's lunch. '_Best leave tales like that for children's stories,_' she decided.

Yes, the Doctor would fix this. He _was_ part vampire right now for some unknown reason, apparently converted not - as the legends had lead her to believe - by _biting_, but by scratching.

Different certainly, but even so he wouldn't be a vampire for long.

He'd fix this.

…

Right?

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Not exactly a cliffie ... that comes next chapter ... which in turn comes tomorrow ... (Grins)  
Oh, and I **_**love**_** reviews … (hint hint)**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	3. Your Worst Nightmare

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanks to **Shrink To Be, Emela, Tai Greywing, Dagniro Vanaliel, JForward, Guitarist, Cute Gallifreyan **and** Blaidd Drwg!

**Sorry, would have been up earlier but I got called away - well ... when I say 'got called away' what I really mean is Dad decided to part with his cash (I know, mega gasp) and took me and the midget to see Pirates 3. And if you _haven't_ seen it yet ... GO! It's absolutely _sensational_!**

**Um ... as you were ... (Grins)**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**3.**

Doing her best to keep well out of the Doctor's way, Martha leant hard against the internal door - having spotted a weak point and sprinted towards it while the Doctor wasn't looking - and closely considered him through apprehensive orbs.

He wasn't looking so good.

There was a distinctive film of sweat glistening against the shock-white skin at his neck, and his usually strong, healthy looking hair was now hanging limp against his bowed head. He was leaning forwards slightly, trembling hands splayed out against the console as he leaned as close as he could to the monitor, obviously having serious difficulties with reading it.

'_It's because of his eyes,_' she thought glumly, shaking her head a fraction and wrapping her arms protectively around her chest. A gentle sigh escaped her parted lips and she let her eyes slide closed for a moment, exhaustion finally taking its toll.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

'_Don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look!_'

The words had become a constant mantra now in his head.

With a heavy sigh, the Doctor strained his burning eyes against the glare from the monitor and watched as Gallifreyan symbols glided onto and off of the page, trying to warn him about his condition.

Too bad he could hardly understand a word of it.

Something about scratches being easier to cure than full on vampire bites … something about scratches meaning the conversion is only half successful until the first kill is made … something about an antidote … something about … what the _Hell_ did _that_ mean?!

Exhaustion was clawing relentlessly at his soul. Weakness was chipping away at his mental barriers and the hunger was growing by the second.

He could _smell _her now. Smell the blood pulsing through her veins like poison, intoxicating and inviting. So, _so_ inviting …

'_No_!' he snapped mentally, shaking his head as a dog would to rid its ears of water, only to regret the movement a moment later as nausea and dizziness hit home with a vengeance.

Rassilon, he was so hungry!

His strength, both physical and mental, trickled away from him like water from a leaking tap.

And as his will to fight diminished, bit by bit, second by second, Martha Jones' blood was beginning to smell more and more inviting.

He was running out of time.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

She couldn't help it.

She'd only intended to close them for a second. Just to rest them.

But no, she couldn't even do _that_ properly!

Much to her own despair, as the soothing thrum of the TARDIS fluttered around her, the winking lights dimming ever so slightly as though she could sense Martha's fatigue, consciousness was ripped from her before she could pull it back…

--

… _And in its place was a nightmarish equivalent of the TARDIS._

_She could still hear the same steady, humming beats, but they weren't soothing anymore._

_Quite on the contrary, in fact; they were_ menacing.

_Fear freezing her heart, Martha jumped to her feet as though scolded and shot desperately for the doors._

_But as she collided with them, tugging fruitlessly at the handle and_ willing _them open,_ begging _them to let her out, she soon realized that they weren't going to budge an inch._

_Throwing her entire weight against them, she let out a hysterical cry and turned on the spot, pressing herself into the very fabric of the beating wood in the hopes she could fall straight through it._

_Didn't work, though._

_Not like she'd expected it to._

_And as her leaking eyes caught sight of the ship's owner, she couldn't restrain the shiver of dread that flew straight up her spine._

_Vampire._

_One hundred per cent vampire, one hundred per cent hungry. And one hundred per cent out for her blood._

_With a strangled scream, she bolted, weaving her way around the console and sprinting for the internal doors once again, moving so fast anyone would have assumed her life depended on it._

_Which … of course … _it did.

_But unfortunately for her, fast though her small frame may have been, she had _not_ counted on the wings that could suddenly sprout straight from his back as he transformed, swooping after her with unimaginable speed._

_One blink later, and he was standing right in front of her, cloak as black as the blackest night fluttering about his shoulders, rustling ever so slightly as though on a makeshift wind._

_Standing motionless between her and the door._

_Between her and her last chance of escape._

_He was staring out at her through her Doctor's handsome face. But the eyes … the eyes weren't _his_. The eyes could _never_ be his._

_They were red. Blood red._

_Blood red and gleaming with an untameable hunger amidst an eerie backdrop created by the dimmed alien lights of the TARDIS._

_Two elongated fangs protruded from the corners of his once smooth, flawless mouth, and the lips twitched into a half-smile as he raised a long, bony finger towards her, clinging onto a stray lock of hair that had fluttered into her face and tucking it delicately behind her ear._

_But he didn't release it._

_She could feel his smooth, nimble fingers curling it around and then unravelling it, before doing it again, all the while his gaze never lifting from hers._

_His lust-filled stare was sickening, and as her fearful brown eyes met his ravenous scarlet ones, Martha suddenly realized she couldn't move a muscle._

_She simply stood there, hypnotized by his dancing, flame-engulfed orbs._

_There was a soft beep from the TARDIS console, an anxious, concerned bleep that sounded unnatural amidst the threatening hum of her engines._

_But Martha barely noticed it. _

_With a tentative movement so reminiscent of the Doctor that her breath caught in her throat, he retracted his finger, letting the curl of auburn hair drift lazily back over her face._

_Dropping his hand slightly, his smile widened, the Doctor's usually jovial features seeming completely out of place, all of a sudden. So similar to the familiar smile she'd thought she'd known so well … and yet so impossibly different at the same time._

_Eyes twinkling malevolently, he motioned for her to move closer using the same pallid finger._

"_Come," he murmured, using the Doctor's warm, calming voice for his own purpose as it interlinked with the enrapturing vampiric undertones._

_Martha obeyed._

_One foot shuffling forwards after another, she was soon standing so close to him that their noses were mere millimetres apart._

_And that was when she saw it._

_Saw it enough to cast away the denial and accept it as truth._

_The insatiable hunger … the staring scarlet orbs … the fangs … _the wings_! … no, this wasn't the Doctor._

_Not anymore._

_And that knowledge must have given her strength, because a moment later she blinked ferociously and shoved him forcefully backwards, inching herself passed him and tugging at the door handle in pointless desperation._

_It had been a miniscule hope, but she was devastated nonetheless when the door stood firm against her mental wishes._

_With a gentle moan, she let her legs give out beneath her and slid, defeated, down the door instead, drawing her knees despairingly up into her chest and shaking her head._

"_P-please," she whimpered hoarsely, ignoring the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "Please, Doctor … _don't_!"_

_But she'd accepted it already herself._

_This _wasn't_ the Doctor._

_And she was wasting her breath._

_After a moment, his smile stretched wide enough for his sharply pointed teeth to glint threateningly in front of her, and he crouched down, licking his lips teasingly. There was a small, bleeding cut on his cheek, oozing ruby droplets that ran slowly from the open wound, radiant against their bed of whiteness._

_He must have gained it when she'd sent him flying._

_Almost literally._

_But it didn't seem to hinder his movements._

_In fact, his 'gesturing' finger was soon rising up to run softly against it, soaking itself in the sticky substance before sliding towards his lips._

_Eyes bright with pleasure, he gently licked it clean, leaving Martha's stomach twisting itself into all sorts of unearthly shapes beneath her trembling body._

_And as his fingers finally clasped around the neck of her shirt, slowly sliding it over her shoulder and exposing the skin beneath it, his warm smile stretched to his eyes, leaving them dancing with delight._

_Tones hypnotic, intentions clear, he leaned towards her, gently cupping her face away from his -the better to reach her neck – and whispered so softly she almost missed it, "sorry, Martha. But even vampires must eat."_

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Now, before you peeps shoot me for going all evil!Doctor on Martha, there _is_ a reason why I used this dream, which shall be important later on. But to feed your thirst for knowledge now before it parches you dry, it also shows just how knackered she is. It ain't just the Doctor suffering, yeah?  
But, suffice it to say I need to give her that li'l underlying fear. 'Cause she's gonna need it ... Might even save her life in the end ...(Grins)  
**

**AnyWho, thanks for reading! Next chapter shall be up tomorrow, dudes!  
And … like or no like? Please do let me know!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	4. I Need Your Help

**It's Just a Scratch  
b****y  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies to **izzfrogger, rockchick900, Cute Gallifreyan, Emela, JForward **and** Tai Greywing!**  
**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**4.**

Martha's scream was deafening.

Jumping six feet into the air, his hand slamming painfully hard against the console as it twitched in reaction, the Doctor abandoned his research and turned on his heel, feeling another wave of dizziness threaten to engulf him before he could push it away.

In a heartbeat he was at her side, crouching down beside her thrashing form, eyes wide with unconditional concern and just the tiniest hint of hunger.

But he quelled it as his worry increased.

'_Dreaming,_' he realised, reaching out for her hand and squeezing it softly. With a small sigh, he patted her arm.

"Martha? Wake up," he said, watching in mild horror as her head collided rather forcefully with the door behind her. "Come on, it's just a dream! Wake up!"

He shook her shoulder a little, wondering vaguely how many more times they were going to find themselves in this position.

Regrettably though, his contact appeared to accomplish little more than to terrify her even further.

"No! Get off!" she yelled, attempting to yank away from his grip and consequently sliding sideways, landing mere inches from the edge of the stairway, seconds away from falling onto the lower floor of the TARDIS. "_Don't_! _Please_ don't!"

Sighing heavily but resigned to the worst, the Doctor shook his head a fraction and released his grip, instead reaching out for her neck and pinching it slightly between his thumb and forefinger, immensely relieved by her gasp of pain and the abruptness with which she returned to reality.

Only to _really_ fall from the steps this time.

"Oh Hell," he muttered, jumping without thought over the railing and landing catlike beside her groaning, crumpled form. "Are you alright?" he asked, staring straight at her with compassionate worry.

Martha groaned again and raised her head, eyes unfocussed, lips parted and a small cut blossoming just above her left eye.

After a moment's hesitation, she half-nodded, spotting the Doctor's look of genuine anxiety and feeling relief wash over her. Sweet, shameless, blessed relief.

'_It was only a dream_!' she thought, restraining a laugh of delight with great difficulty. '_He's not going to kill me_!'

But her respite was short lived as she spotted the tumult of emotions raging silent wars within his gleaming, ruby-red eyes.

'_Okay … so he's not going to kill me _yet,' she amended, blinking rapidly and dropping her gaze from his, gingerly rolling onto her side and attempting to stand again.

She made it to her knees, felt dizziness attack her senses, and frowned, placing a hand to her head before stumbling resolutely to her feet.

The Doctor frowned too, but said nothing.

Instead, he followed her example and dragged himself to his feet, standing before her and staring directly at her.

Unable to ignore his intense glare, she sighed and turned to him, feeling uneasy as the onslaught of emotion that burned within his stare bit right into her very soul.

His eyes wavered after a moment, lingering instead on the cut above her eye, suddenly fascinated by it.

"That er … that needs … cleaning," he managed, furious with himself when the creepy vampire voice escaped his lips, rather than the normal 'Doctorish' tone he so desperately preferred.

"It's fine," she replied, wiping at it vaguely before smiling in reassurance, her eyes lingering a little on the small smear of red that clung to her finger as she lowered her hand again. "I'll live." She glanced sideways at the console and frowned. "The rotor's stopped moving. Have we landed somewhere?"

The Doctor half-nodded.

"Planet called Minuisa," he croaked out, wincing as Martha's breath hitched. She stood her ground though … thank God …"Middle of the night. Best time to be a vampire," he said jovially, forcing a small laugh.

It didn't linger very long though. For his eyes were captivated again by the small cut above her eye.

Raising a tentative hand towards it before he could stop himself, Martha flinched and recoiled in horror, suddenly all too reminded of his evil, vampire counterpart.

"No," she murmured, her terror snapping the Doctor out of his trance-like movements just in time for him to catch himself and draw back his hand.

"Sorry," he whispered roughly, clearing his throat and turning away.

Martha sighed, tears springing into her eyes. With an angry swipe at them, she forced them back.

"Have you … found out how to change you back yet?" she asked thickly, turning away and staring at the monitor on the console through misted eyes.

The Doctor smiled - satisfied Martha was … _almost_ … alright again - and stumbled weakly back over to the console, staring carefully at the monitor despite his swimming vision. His vision wasn't 'pink', anymore. It was red. Completely and utterly scarlet...

"Maybe," he replied cryptically, cringing at the freakish tones but unsurprised when he suddenly felt rather than saw Martha standing feet behind him, obviously furious with herself for submitting.

"If I can make up the cure, I should be right as rain."

Martha sighed with relief.

"No need for Vampire hunting, then?" she verified, counting her blessings.

The Doctor shook his head, an unstable hand flying to his temples after a moment and a grimace of pain illuminating his pasty features before he could disguise it.

Martha shivered.

"Nope," he murmured softly, hitting a button and grinning as a soft buzzing sound erupted from somewhere just below the monitor. Martha watched in fascination as the alien equivalent of a laser printer slowly began ticking its way into life, a thin sheet of paper beginning to poke out from the slot.

Much to the Doctor's relief, his voice seemed almost normal for the first time in what _had_ to be hours. Perhaps he was getting the hang of it. Taking advantage, he thought it best to fill her in as best he could before he became Mystic Meg yet again.

With a small smile, he stared directly at her.

"Besides, if it were that simple I'd have changed back already."

Martha's relief tripled ten fold, and she smiled the first true smile she'd felt grace her features in a long while. She'd never been so happy in all their time together to hear him speaking to her in that rich, Londoner's accent of his, the cheeky tint behind his words sounding like music to her ears.

"I've just destroyed their entire planet, so Azrael's been dealt with already. I was kind of hoping I might have been okay after killing him, but because it was a scratch and not a bite, destroying the vampire who converted me alone won't cut it."

"And … Azrael was the creepy leader vampire?" Martha asked, feeling her pulse rate dropping slightly as she began to regain control over her emotions, allowing the knowledge that the Doctor could fix this to wash over her fears about his current condition. "He was the one who scratched you?"

"Yep."

Martha nodded vaguely, watching with fascination as the small strip of paper finally shot out towards his hand, containing, she quickly realised, a miniature copy of the symbols on the screen

"Antidote?" she asked, smiling.

"Antidote," he agreed, skimming through it quickly before turning to her. "Problem is, I don't know how much longer I can fight it."

Martha's blood ran cold.

"Fight what?" she whispered fearfully.

Though she already knew.

"The hunger," he replied simply, eyes twinkling as he yet again contemplated the tiny bleeding cut above her eye.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Martha grabbed for the paper and turned away, clueless as to what the symbols meant and yet pretending to read them anyway.

"Instructions on how to make it, I presume," she stated, more to keep herself sane by asking questions than because she was genuinely interested.

He didn't reply.

And Martha was suddenly frightfully aware that the Doctor was standing uncomfortably close to her.

Eyes no longer upon the paper, she hesitated, unsure as to whether or not she really wanted to know what he was doing, and then finally she turned slowly on the spot in time to see him staring eagerly at her neck.

Butterflies were playing energetically beneath her chest.

But she stilled them.

Or at least, she stilled them as best she could.

Mortified, she retreated a few steps and cleared her throat, roughly shoving the page back into his unresisting hands and carefully securing her black cardigan about her shoulders, tugging apprehensively at her red shirt collar and clearing her throat.

"Right well, best get to it then," she said mock breezily.

The Doctor sighed heavily, looking momentarily crestfallen, but nodded after a moment's pause.

"I'll need your help, Martha," he replied, tones suddenly deadly serious. "I can't do this on my own."

Martha had figured as much.

He could barely keep his mind focussed for more than thirty seconds, right now. So how was he supposed to stick to however long making a freakin' antidote might take?

"Thought there might be a catch," she laughed, jokiness rich within her words and yet feeling nothing of their light-heartedness personally.

In truth, she was terrified.

And the Doctor knew as much.

Managing to control himself even to his own surprise, he gripped her shoulders and stared intently at her, scarlet eyes wide, their gaze burning and heart-rending. She flinched, but otherwise remained motionless, staring mutely back.

"Martha, you have to be prepared. If I can't hang on … if it looks like I'm lost to it … do whatever you think necessary to stop me, okay?"

Martha's eyes widened. Momentarily lost for words, she remained silent.

"_Please_ Martha," he continued, mistaking her confusion for disbelief, "I _don't want_ to hurt you, but I just don't know how long I can fight this." His words were rushed, his eyes wild and fiery. "The longer I go without blood, the stronger the need becomes. The harder it is to fight it! And I'm struggling already when we're only twenty minutes in! Believe me, things _are going_ to get ugly! I need you to promise me you'll look after yourself no matter _what_ the cost is!"

His desperation was true, pure.

His feelings for her even purer.

Dumbly, Martha nodded, suddenly enraptured by his urgent orbs for reasons other than their hypnotic calling.

"Okay," she whispered, meeting his pain-racked stare face on.

The Doctor nodded in satisfaction and smiled.

"Right, no time like the present then," and he was off, bolting through the internal doors towards the TARDIS' medical suite, albeit with slightly less bravado than usual but with the same Doctorish determination.

He was weak, she knew that much, but at least he hadn't given up yet.

With an anxious final glance around the console room, Martha was sure she heard a faint whistle of 'good luck' flutter into her ears, before she too vanished from sight, the door swinging shut behind her.

With a nervous bleep, the TARDIS dimmed the lights of the console room and mentally prayed for her passengers' safety, knowing full well that the Doctor's strength of will wasn't going to hold out much longer.

And if he gave in, if he offered himself up to the enveloping darkness … well, suffice it to say they would _all_ be screwed.

Because after that first kill, there's no way back.

Not even for a nine hundred year-old Time Lord.

They could only pray that it wasn't going to come down to that.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanks for reading! Next one might be up on Wednesday, 'cause I'm going out tomorrow. If I get a chance though, I'll try to post it before we go. If not, first thing on Wednesday, for sure! **

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	5. Doctors and Nurses

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanks **Emela, JForward, Cute Gallifreyan, Lurker, Shrink To Be, Tai Greywing, Scimitarmoon, AscendingWithTyler, T'Kirr **and **Dagniro Vanaliel!

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**5.**

The strong scent of disinfectant hit her first, wrapping itself around her senses and somehow calming her, despite their unnatural predicament.

She was in familiar territory here. A trainee doctor, finding peace and solace in a medical centre.

Just what the Doctor ordered.

Martha stepped over the threshold in time to see him –having entered the medical room already - buzzing the Sonic at a rather large Bunsen, tongue between his teeth and the sheet of paper he'd brought in with him stapled to a whiteboard on the wall.

"Right," he murmured, his head vanishing from view as it was momentarily eaten by a cupboard beneath the workbench, his voice muffled slightly. "Where'd I put it?"

"Put what?" Martha asked, contemplating the vastness of the room with nothing short of awestruck admiration.

The entire hospital wing appeared to go on forever, beds and tables standing side by side to the left of her, while the right hand side housed the research laboratory that was currently their preferred destination.

And what a research laboratory it was.

Pretty much the entire floor space gave way to a wild and wonderful array of machinery, equipment and wiring, instruments from Earth jumbled in and amongst apparatus that could only be catalogued as being of alien origin. Scattered around stations of varying sizes, each having its own desk, stool, sink, gas tap and collection of cupboards, were bound bundles of wiring that coalesced near the far wall, multicoloured pipes and tubes disappearing into the plaster as though eaten by it. The soft thrumming hum of the TARDIS was less noticeable in here, and yet existed beneath the pulsing and whirring sounds of the various items of equipment.

Almost like a symphonic melody of machinery and technology.

"It's gotta be here somewhere," Martha heard the Doctor murmur, concealed now by a large, standing wardrobe that, from watch she could make out from her position beside the door, appeared to house a collection of jars and tins with various items stored within them.

"What are you looking for?" Martha asked, ignoring the door as it clicked gently shut behind her.

"Well, an ingredient," the Doctor replied, but Martha was faintly horrified to hear his voice wasn't exactly his own, once again. Biting down on her lip and jamming her eyes shut, curling her hands into fists at her sides, she struggled to ignore the call behind the words and leant hard against the cool metal door handle, making sure it poked her in the back.

As uncomfortable as it was, it kept her mind focussed on something _other_ than his enticing calls. So it was good enough for her.

It served its purpose.

And with those faint and uninformative words, he was gone again, swallowed up by yet another row of cupboards, the soft chinking of moving bottles and jars breaking the humming stillness.

"Yeah, I kinda gathered that," she muttered, restraining an eye roll. "I _meant_," she continued, raising her voice slightly, "what _kind_ of ingredient?"

The Doctor spared her a glance, frowning heavily, his red eyes gleaming as they swept over her motionless form momentarily before he blinked and turned away.

"Well, I need a blood sample. And unfortunately, while we were running for our lives, it never occurred to me that I might be scratched during our escape such that I'd _need_ one in the first place, so I never bothered to try and get one."

Martha frowned, eyebrows knotting in confusion.

It must have made sense to him though, for he continued without even the slightest of hesitations. Martha sighed but said nothing.

"So, being the genius that I am, I'm going to use one of the TARDIS' stored samples. Problem _is_, there's only a tiny amount, meaning I've _got_ to get this right first time."

Martha's confusion was growing by the second.

"Um, not to be one to ask the obvious but … how _did_ you come to have a sample when, as you say, you didn't think you'd need one while we were there?"

God, she sounded like _him_; what with her not-even-remotely-understandable phrases!

But to her surprise, the Doctor shot her a crafty grin. Whatever she'd just said, he'd clearly followed it.

Yet his initial response left rather a lot to be desired.

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Martha snorted, unable to restrain her rolling eyes, this time.

"Oh, I think I do," she said, grinning. Trying to pretend she wasn't physically there, the better to fight his hunger, he continued shoving items from one side to another as his impatience grew. Deciding he couldn't ignore her thirst for knowledge though, he answered after a few moments, faintly relieved when his voice came out more or less how he'd remembered it before this entire ordeal.

"Let's just say I'm prepared for _every_ eventuality. It might even make it easier to say the TARDIS knows what she's doing, and therefore has the brains to stock up with just about everything you could ever _possibly _need. Bless her. Always thinking, y'see. Good thing, too," he added, pausing in his search before shrugging to himself and returning to the frantic attack against the cabinets with renewed vigour.

Martha nodded, smiling at the thrumming walls, surprised but also faintly delighted by the grateful wink of the lights that signalled the TARDIS' gratitude for Martha's appraisal of her quick-thinking skills.

Shaking her head at the absurdity of the whole situation, her worries gradually diminishing as she settled back into the 'doctors and nurses' role that had been so near and yet so out of reach for what felt like _years_, Martha composed herself and hurried over to the Doctor's side, taking great care to stand on the _opposite_ side of the bench.

Best not make things_ too_ easy for the Doctor, should he decide to go all 'manically evil' on her.

"So, what d'ya need help with?" she asked, mock-brightly, clapping her hands together in preparation. The Doctor blinked and looked up, one hand still hidden within the seemingly endless depths of the smallish cupboard beside him.

The chink of movement ceased suddenly, and Martha frowned anxiously, tearing her gaze from his and clearing her throat hurriedly.

The Doctor took the hint, and the sounds of rapid movement resumed almost immediately.

Breathing an inward sigh of relief, Martha wiped a hand across her forehead and glanced skywards.

The TARDIS bleeped her concerns, but otherwise did nothing.

"Um …" came a distracted call from the cupboard. Martha stared at the workbench, so as to keep a close eye on her companion, catching his movements out of the corner of her eye. With a faint 'hah!' of delight, he resurfaced clutching a small phial containing a blood-red liquid that was lapping lazily against the glass.

"That it?" she asked, nodding at it.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement before shaking it a little trying to dispel the ever-growing hunger, and set the phial down into a test-tube rack on the workbench.

With a sharp jab of a quivering thumb, he pointed at a cupboard just behind Martha, housing beakers and measuring cylinders. "Large beaker," he said, knowing full well his tones were beginning to fall out of his control again.

So the less he said, the better.

Biting her tongue, she obeyed, sliding the glass door open and reaching for one of the larger beakers with trembling hands.

Setting it down on the table, she took a tentative step back as his shivering hands came up to grip it, reaching after a second for the Bunsen and pulling it towards him.

Martha noticed, with horrific clarity, the now sharpened, elongated fingernails that were beginning to smoothen themselves into a rather dangerous-looking point. He could barely grip the beaker, and yet his perseverance should surely have been applauded, Martha mused. Deciding that speaking again wouldn't be the best of options, she chose to wait for his instructions, this time.

Minutes passed.

Hisses and pops were soon mingling in with the chorus of apparatus and whirring machinery, as the concoction began to create itself, the Doctor's fervent additions of different ingredients beginning to work their magic inside the large beaker.

Leaves of plants she'd never seen before, liquids of drugs she could faintly remember from her many theory tests back at home and even the odd creature or organism were soon combined within the swirling liquids, spitting and hissing furiously as heat from the Bunsen worked its own magic beneath the beaker. Steam was billowing out in great clouds, shrouding the room in a soft, scarlet mist.

Coughing slightly and fanning at it absentmindedly, Martha was suddenly troubled by the soft gleam that glistened out from the centre of the strange smoke.

The Doctor's eyes were deepening, Martha noticed, their shade strengthening.

As the seconds dragged by, the glowing of his eyes intensified, camouflaged ever so slightly by the encroaching mist.

And with it, the hunger, the _pain_ was becoming more and more pronounced.

Martha's anxieties were growing.

Yet she could do little more than admire his willpower. She certainly wanted to congratulate him on holding out for this long. They must have been at this for _hours …_ or maybe it merely felt like that and in fact he'd only had to face up to his new aching needs for a few minutes.

Hell, it was impossible to tell inside this police box.

Step through those blue doors, and time becomes relative, she'd realised some time ago…

Okay. Rule one of living with a Vampire: _never_ let your guard down.

The cry of pain was the thing that finally snapped Martha out of it, and much to her disguised relief, the strange smog had cleared in her 'absence'.

Yet unfortunately, as with most desires, she soon found herself wishing she could get its comforting cloak back.

For that look …the look that now adorned his once amiable, handsome features … _that look_ was truly terrifying her now.

Martha watched in terror as a quivering hand flew to the Doctor's mouth, his scarlet orbs jammed shut and the Sonic falling from his other hand onto the table with an echoing clatter.

"Doctor?" she whispered, her knees buckling slightly until she was practically crouching beside the workbench, her eyes and fringe the only things easy to see, peaking out at him apprehensively from over the edge of the bench.

The Doctor turned away, his hand slamming against the table-top with enough force to send the test-tube rack – complete with its still-full phial – and the beaker of his newly constructed antidote jumping as if on an invisible wire. Martha stared at it in desperation, silently praying that it wasn't about to go flying … she didn't think he'd survive having to make the whole thing again.

After a couple of seconds, they stilled, the concoction sloshing about inside its container a little, but no _real_ harm done.

But the same couldn't be said for the Doctor as she glanced up at him, heart beating unnaturally fast and a dull, aching throb beginning to pound at her temples.

He was leaning heavily against the counter, breaths short and ragged, sounding painful even to _her _ears as they rattled about in his chest. His eyes were still closed, but she could make out faint tear-tracks against the pallid tones of his cheeks.

And now, for the first time, glinting out from the corners of his lips, she could just about make out two small points of white, one at either end, their sharpness digging slightly into his lower lip.

God, so he had fangs now.

This most definitely was _not_ a good sign.

Obviously trying unbelievably hard to hide the pain, he straightened up and shook his head fiercely, his sweat-drenched locks flying about around it as he forced his stinging eyes open once again.

Still avoiding Martha's penetrating but terrified gaze for fear his resolve would snap the moment they laid eyes upon each other, the Doctor sank to his knees and began rummaging desperately around within the cupboards again.

But to his dismay, the final ingredient,bar the Haemovamp blood sample, was nowhere to be seen.

So the TARDIS had brought them here for a reason, it seemed.

Suddenly crestfallen, the Doctor straightened up slowly, a look of abject despair breaking out across his worn and strained features. Martha's breath hitched.

"Doctor? What's wrong?" she asked softly, hoping _this_ wasn't a sign he'd given up.

"The last ingredient," he croaked out, shaking his head. Martha's head was fighting against her feet. Much to her silent joy, it won out, and they remained firmly planted to the floor.

_This_ time.

"What about it?"

But then it hit her, and her face fell.

"Doctor … _please_ tell me you have it."

The Doctor spared her the briefest of despairing glances before checking a small scanner on the screen beside him, blinking his eyes into focus as they throbbed achingly in protest to the glare.

"One final ingredient … here on Minuisa," he tried, hoping she'd get it, knowing that if he kept talking, she wouldn't be able to fight him for much longer.

Thankfully, she _did_ get it.

"Oh," she murmured, frowning. "Which is why the TARDIS brought us _here_, then? Did she _know_ you don't have it?"

The Doctor nodded distractedly, mouth tight shut.

"Right. Well, better go and get it then," she said, sparing the bubbling beaker a small glance before shaking her head a fraction. With a pitying look, she considered the Doctor as she straightened up, trembling from head to foot but ignoring it quite well. "How you doin'?" she asked gently.

A half-shrug was all she received for her concerned efforts.

Sighing, she nodded dumbly.

"Thought as much. Best get this over and done with. The sooner we get this thing, the sooner you're back to normal, yeah?"

The Doctor, unsurprisingly, said nothing.

Fighting with her fears for a few angst-ridden seconds, she battled with her desire to offer comfort against her desire to remain alive.

Her worry and need to help prevailed.

The butterflies in her stomach having a field day as they competed with her racing heart, she hurried around the workbench and nodded apprehensively at the beaker.

"Will that be okay for … however long this is going to take?"

The Doctor nodded, eyes jammed shut so as to avoid her gaze completely.

'_Don't look! You _can't_ look! You can't _ever_ look!_'

But he couldn't ignore the fact that his hunger was winning now. That the pain, strain and exhaustion was taking its toll.

And as he mutely followed Martha towards the door, forcing his eyes to focus on _anything _but her, his pain-racked mind delighted in telling him that if he didn't eat, and soon, an exploding half-finished antidote would be the least of their worries.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Heh, not lookin' so good. Poor guy. I'm feeling rather guilty, at the moment. (Sigh)  
Still, where's the fun if he ain't being put through the mill a bit? And ... he'll forgive me, eventually ... right?  
**

**Feel free to comment! **

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	6. Remember what?

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies to **JForward, Cute Gallifreyan, Emela, AscendingWithTyler, Shrink To Be, Dagniro Vanaliel, Spockette, Syreene, Tai Greywing **and** AvitarGirl!

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**6.**

Martha's first impression of the planet Minuisa was almost none-existent, for it appeared at first glance to be nothing but _darkness_.

Complete and utter blackness.

Straining her eyes against the gloom as they adjusted after the dim-yet-visible lights of the Console Room, Martha reached out a tentative hand and stepped over the threshold, making room for the Doctor to stumble out after her.

There was a soft chirruping sound from somewhere to her right, and the occasional gust of wind whipped at her face, its icy cold breath harsh and stinging against her exposed skin.

Even as she listened, it soon became apparent to her that, despite the darkness, the entire planet was humming. While sight had eluded her, her ears were working overtime in compensation.

The rustle of leaves and the calls of native birds were the accompaniments to a terrestrial orchestra of sounds, as strange but stunning purrs fluttered into her ears.

The song was soothing.

She found it hard to believe that a planet could be _singing_, but she could think of no other way of describing the beautiful sound whilst still doing it justice. She could feel it pulsing beneath her skin, melding its way into her very soul as she listened, ears strained, shivers rocketing up her spine like fireworks…

But her moment of peace and solitude was irritatingly disturbed by a loud crunch from somewhere beside her.

The Doctor had apparently been engulfed by the darkness while she was distracted by the strange sounds of this new and exciting place, but his lack of knowledge when it came down to 'keeping a low profile' was all she needed to be able to figure out where he was.

As another crunch, rather like the snapping of a small twig, broke the planet's ethereal melody, she jumped a little, the sound feeling unnatural amidst Minuisa's symphonic magnificence. Looking up, she focussed on finding the creator of the abnormal sounds, and soon found herself clutching onto the Doctor's arm as she located him, aware that her own snapping twigs were now adding to his, the sounds seeming coarse and jarring when compared to the tonal loveliness of the planet's own music.

Almost as if it _knew_ it had company.

"So," she whispered as softly as she could whilst still making herself heard over the sounds of Minuisian nature. Glancing sideways at the vague outline of her friend, she was troubled by his glowing eyes but remained silent upon the matter regardless. She could feel him shivering through her own clothes, and her heart melted.

"What?" he croaked back, not sparing her even the slightest of glances, knowing full well that her life could well depend on it.

'_She is _not_ food. She is _not_ food. She is _not …_ what was I saying again?_'

Martha's voice interrupted his mental berating and he restrained a jump with great difficulty.

"What does this 'final ingredient' look like? Is it a plant, or an animal? Water? Strange fire? Earth, soil, gravel, stone, _bone_?"

The Doctor paused, frowning, his stinging eyes scanning the dimly lit landscape with ease, thanks to his altered eye-sight.

There was, at this particular moment in time, - since this _entire _ordeal had begun - only _one _upside to his condition that he could honestly say he was glad for – he could see in the dark.

Whoop-de-freakin'-doo.

The Doctor looked up in time to see her staring intently at him, even though he was sure she could barely see him at all through the gloom. But _why_ ...?

Oh right, she'd just asked him a question, and was now waiting for his response.

So, perhaps he needed to answer her.

"Erm …"

But he fell silent, skin paling alarmingly beneath its thin sheen of sweat.

"Oh no," she murmured, slapping a hand against her forehead and rubbing disbelievingly at her eyes. "Doctor …_ please_ tell me you _do_ know what you're looking for," she begged of him, hardly daring to glance his way as she imagined his head shaking solemnly and his wide eyes staring apologetically at her, before her world was plunged into blackness by the sting of sharp fangs sinking into her neck …

"Um, yes and no."

His voice was scratchy and Martha felt her grip on his arm strengthen considerably as its power willed her ever closer to him. He winced as her nails dug into his skin, but bit back the remark for fear she'd be jumping into his lap if he continued talking like that.

"What does _that_ mean?" she demanded, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

The Doctor shrugged, grimacing.

"Not sure," he admitted, struggling to keep his eyes on the barely noticeable path ahead of them. The thin footpath seemed to twist on forever, weaving through tall and towering trees and shrubs of varying shapes and sizes as it moulded its way into the surrounding landscapes almost indistinguishably.

Even _now_, Martha could see nothing. She could _smell_, though.

The occasional whiff of earth caught in her nostrils, along with the odd perfumed scent of some bizarre and completely alien plant or other.

And she could _hear_. There was no shortage of sounds, in this place.

But she couldn't _see_ a damn thing.

And if the Doctor _hadn't_ had night vision, she realised, this trip would have been nye on impossible.

"Well how am I supposed to help you find it when I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for?" she asked heatedly, frustrated but clearly attempting to hide it.

The _last_ thing she wanted to do right now was piss him off.

For it could well be the last thing she ever did.

The Doctor half-smiled, trying to concentrate more on the route than on her as he finally took heed of just how close she was to him.

Of just how soft her hands were as they clutched to the sleeves of his blood-stained trench coat.

Of just how delicious her own blood smelt from such a close proximity.

Of just how much more delicious it would _taste_, trickling drop after drop down his aching throat…

"Doctor?"

Wincing against the realisation that he was losing it big time, he cleared said throat and sighed.

"Erm, sorry. What were we …? Oh right, 'what is it?' Well, it's a … it's…"

Oh, God.

What _was_ it ?!

Martha felt a hand fly to her head and she slapped it lightly before squeezing her eyes shut in despair and pinching the bridge of her nose.

Their footsteps and the consequent snapping of twigs was soon silenced as both fell into motionless muteness.

"You'd better think fast, Doctor," she murmured, shaking her head in desolation.

The Doctor clutched at his hair slightly, biting his tongue against the hunger that was gnawing away at his insides. Hell even his _hunger _was hungry!

Eyes wide and alert, he let them glide easily over the blackness surrounding them, feeling slightly more comfortable under the cloak of darkness than he had back in the lightness of the TARDIS.

Wait, the _TARDIS_ …

What had he been doing in there again?

… …

_Making_ something. Something that needed something else that he was _now_ supposed to be looking for …

"Martha, what was I doing before?" he whispered, straining his memory for even the _tiniest_ of details.

Martha felt her mouth drop open in horror.

"You mean you can't even remember_ that?_"

As his silence stretched, Martha was beginning to feel more and more hopeless by the second.

Oh.

This was so, _so_ not good.

The Doctor's scarlet eyes were wide, their stare searching and urgent as he struggled to cling onto his memories, the ones that were slowly being consumed by his desire for food.

If he could _just remember_ what he'd been doing _before_ …

"Right, enough of this," Martha murmured, relinquishing her grip on his arm and feeling her way into his line of vision instead, standing directly in front of him with her hands secured to his shoulders this time, her eyes wide and _daring_ him to ignore her words.

"_You_," she stressed, putting as much emphasis and clarity behind the speech as possible, "are the _Doctor_. You're a _Time Lord_ and you come from a planet called Gallifrey. You were working on an _antidote_ that will change you back into yourself after being scratched by a _vampire_. Remember that?"

Hell, the proof was right there, glistening like red paint against the whiteness of his neck.

Yet it appeared he _didn't _remember it.

Martha was damn near close to screaming in frustration, but her cry was eaten seconds later as she spotted the lust-filled glare that she was receiving from the Doctor as he stood stock-still, shivering beneath her fingertips, his eyes riveted to her neck.

"Oh no you don't," she murmured, digging her nails into his shoulders hard enough for him to wince and duck out of her grasp.

"_Hey_!" he snapped, irritated. "What was _that_ for?"

Martha's sigh of relief was internal. She felt her hard glare soften a little as she spotted his questioning stare.

The eyes may not have been completely his, but the sparkle of life_ within_ their swirling scarlet depths definitely was.

So he was alright … for now.

"Oh nothing," she said cheerfully. "Just you going all psycho hungry on me. I thought it best to remind you that I'm _not_ lunch, just in case you were getting ideas."

And it had certainly _looked_ like he was, she admitted to herself fearfully.

Sighing heavily, he half-nodded, turning away from her and staring resolutely off into the distance.

"Right. Sorry. What were you saying?"

Martha really_ did_ scream with frustration, that time.

The sound pierced the air with enough force to send the few nesting foreign birds flying south in terror, their screeching cries almost lost amidst her own yell of annoyance.

Well, that was until the Doctor jumped forwards and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Sshhh!" he hissed in her ear, glaring over her shoulder as the darkness intensified.

Martha raised an eyebrow as he relinquished his grasp, holding her shoulder instead as he continued to stare over the top of it.

"What was that for?" Martha murmured back, eyes narrowed.

"I'd rather we didn't draw attention to ourselves, if it's all the same to you, Martha. There's a creature living on this planet that I'd rather avoid an encounter with, particularly when I'm in this state."

"Wait, you _remember_?" she asked, completely ignoring his words after losing concentration at the sound of her name, blessed hope returning in a heart-beat with enough force to make her giddy with overwhelming delight.

Mouth clamped shut, he nodded and motioned her closer, his eyes never wavering from whatever it was that he'd taken to glaring at.

Martha obeyed, distractedly wondering how much of her reaction was down to _her own_ free will and how much was thanks to _his_ hypnotic pull.

Deciding after a few moments that she didn't really want to know, she turned slightly in his half-embrace and strained her eyes against the encroaching blackness.

'_Curse my human eyes,_' she thought, exasperated.

"What d'you see?" she asked softly, hoping the quiver of fear she felt didn't make it into the words that emerged.

"Nothing yet," he admitted, keeping his tones low. "And I'm hoping we can keep it that way." Blinking and turning to her at last, he responded to her earlier question with hushed but hurried urgency, fearing his exhausted mind could slip again at any minute.

"Right, we're looking for a plant," he told her, staring intently at her and hoping she wasn't going to need him to ask twice. "It's not big, and its flowers are quite mundane when compared with some of its fellows, but it's the leaves we need. They have a chemical inside that's a necessity if we want the antidote to work correctly."

Martha rolled her eyes.

"Well that's all well and good, Doctor," she started, trying to keep the patronising tones to a bare minimum, "but I can put my finger on _two tiny_ problems. _One_ is the fact that we're _surrounded_ by plants with mundane flowers - granted some are massive but others aren't so lacking in space. And _two_ is the fact that I _can't see a bloody thing_!"

"Ah."

Martha snorted derisively, feeling her frustration peak.

"Yes," the Doctor murmured, running a hand through his unruly locks and jamming his eyes shut. "Yes, that _is_ a problem."

He straightened up, frowning, his hand dropping to his side and his mouth open a little as he clicked his tongue, deep in thought.

Martha was suddenly uncomfortably aware of just how _sharp_ and _long_ those fangs were suddenly looking…

"Well," he said, breaking the silence at last. "The _first_ problem shouldn't really _be_ a problem if I can keep myself in line until we get there. See, I know where it is… well, the Time Lord half of me does. I can't really explain how it looks properly because it looks … well, _normal_. Just an ordinary plant with long, spiky leaves and the occasional black or white bud every now and again. Think 'aloe vera'," he added with reference to the shape of the leaves, and Martha restrained a small smile. It didn't last very long though. "It grows in the outskirts of Minuisa's largest forest," he went on, wildly gesturing around with a white hand to indicate their location, grimacing in pain but letting not a sound of his discomfort escape him, "and at this time of the night it's most probably doused in moonlight. It likes moonlight for some reason."

"But where's the moon?" Martha asked, raising her eyes skywards, only to wish she hadn't bothered. For there was nothing but blackness.

Blackness from top to bottom.

Curse this stupid planet.

"Oh, we're under heavy canopy, here," the Doctor replied, voice scratchy but, so far still pretty much 80 per cent Doctor. Much to his wavering delight. "So the plant we're looking for should be _fairly_ easy to find because once we find a clearing that allows moonlight to filter through into it, we're pretty much in the right place, and thus, _laughing_, as it were."

Pausing, he rubbed a hand over his aching eyes and sighed heavily. With an apprehensive glance in Martha's direction, he added, "and as for the _second_ problem…"

But fell silent, leaving it hanging, shaking his head a little.

"You wouldn't happen to have a pair of night-vision glasses on you, by any chance?" Martha asked hopefully, sensing his discomfort. He was going to lose it again. She could feel it. "I mean, you carry a _toothbrush_ around with you!"

The Doctor shook his head.

"All I can do is give you the Sonic and let you use its light as a torch. I mean, once we _get _to where we're headed, the moonlight should be source enough, but it's _getting_ there that's gonna be the problem."

Martha nodded eagerly, seeing his eyes beginning to glaze over.

"Yeah, brilliant idea," she said quickly, slapping him hard on the shoulder. "You're _full_ of those, aren't you?"

"Full of … what?" he asked, eyes scrunched up and fangs biting into his lip.

"Brilliant ideas," she clarified, squeezing his shoulder with as much force as she could muster. "So, the Sonic, then?" she reminded him, wondering if he could even remember what it was.

With sluggish movements he half-nodded, eyes still glued shut, and reached into an internal pocket with trembling fingers that seemed _impossibly_ long all of a sudden. Even _amidst_ the darkness, she could make out the gleaming points of ten, sharpened nails before they vanished into the black depths of one of the Doctor's many pockets.

They emerged a moment later clutching the Sonic gingerly, the metal tube chattering slightly as his claw-like nails trembled against it.

Martha, sensing his turmoil, snatched it from him before he could realise the damage he could do if he used it properly.

"Thanks," she said briskly, flicking a switch up and pressing the button.

Much to her undisguised horror, the Doctor hissed and backed away as the blue light flared into existence.

"So, which way and how far?" she asked, hoping to distract him from his sudden fears of unnatural light and hoping he could remember _that_ much, at least.

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded forwards, eyes seeming wilder and brighter as the eerie, pulsing light form the Sonic's azure tip illuminated their pain-racked depths.

"'Bout a mile," he muttered, the tones hauntingly familiar.

Martha planted her feet firmly into the ground and clenched her fist around the Sonic's cool handle, willing the call to pass right over her head.

Feeling silence might be the best option while he struggled with himself, she waited, feeling her heart pounding beneath her chest as her fingers became numb from the strength of her grip.

After what felt like an age, the Doctor cleared his throat again and motioned her silently forwards.

Martha's breath of relief never escaped her as she followed silently in his wake, the light casting creepy shadows against the path around her, and her eyes riveted to the Doctor's trembling form as she followed a few paces behind, silently praying to God that they could find this thing before it was too late.

So consumed were they by their internal battles, that neither the Doctor nor Martha noticed a pair of red eyes blink into existence, the rustle of a small bush a few paces behind them breaking the now fallen silence like a gunshot, before they too vanished from sight, devoured at last by the invading blackness.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Hmm, there's something a creepin' around the corner. Wonder if the Doctor and Martha can find the strange and as-of-yet unnamed plant designated 'the Final Ingredient' before **_**it**_** finds **_**them**_** …**

**Tune in next time to find out! (Grins)  
Oh, and reviews are shiny! I like shiny things! See a pattern, here? (Wink)  
**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	7. I Trust You

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thank you **Shrink To Be, AvitarGirl, Emela, AscendingWithTyler, JForward, Cute Gallifreyan, Dagniro Vanaliel, rockchick900, Syreene** and** Tai Greywing!

**Sorry for the delay. I've been Job Hunting. Had to write up a CV and stuff. Not fun, but necessary. My mate stayed over for a few days, and we went into town looking for work. Well, we did that when we weren't shopping or watching horror films and annoying my neighbours, at any rate ...  
And for the record - job hunting sucks. Big time.  
Still, our names are out there now. That's a start ... right?**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**7.**

Martha sighed heavily and struggled to untangle yet _another_ loose bramble from the sleeve of her cardigan, tugging at it ferociously at it snapped playfully at her hands.

"Doctor?" she whispered hoarsely, eyes jammed shut in irritation as she doubled her grip, wincing as a particularly sharp spike bit into her right hand. She restrained a curse, but it was a close thing.

"Huh?" she heard him murmur back, his voice deep and somewhat huskier than she'd remembered. Suddenly miraculously untangled, voice no longer working as his bit into her soul, she found herself standing inches from him in a heartbeat, before she could berate herself for her weakness.

This was getting ridiculous.

And the Doctor apparently thought so too, for he spared her a pained glance and shook his head in frustration.

Regaining control of her vocal chords as the strange, binding power vanished, she bit back her worries and readied herself for his eerily sexy response.

"Are we nearly there yet?"

Martha shivered, suddenly realising how whiny she'd just sounded. A rather unwanted flashback of her six year old self decided to resurface after so many years of careful therapy, and she winced in horror as she mentally saw herself whinging at her parents as they bickered constantly from the front seat of their old Ford Anglia, while Tish and Leo took it in turns to poke her in the side as she struggled to back as far into the car seat as possible.

'_Mum! This ain't fair! Are we nearly there yet?_'

Naturally, her mother had ignored her.

'_Oh, it's _always_ the same, Clive! _Completely_ ignored my instructions, and _now_ look where you've got us! We've been driving around the same three streets for the best part of an hour!_'

'_Well, forgive me for _not_ taking advice from a woman who holds the map upside down!_'

Then enter her siblings.

'_Leo? It's your turn! Poke Martha! Poke Martha!_'

'_No! _Don't_ poke me! Tish, _stop it_! Mum! Make 'em stop poking me! Ouch! That hurts! Dad! Aren't we there yet?!_'

"Earth to Martha!"

Martha jumped and blinked rapidly, momentarily mortified as the Sonic slipped a little through her numbed-by-cold fingers.

Steadying her grip on it before it was sent flying, she glanced up in time to see the Doctor staring at her, red eyes wide and searching, a faint frown creasing his sweat-coated brow.

"God, it's like talking to a _wall_," he murmured, more to himself than to her, shaking his head in disapproval. "Bloody day-dreaming humans!"

Martha blushed.

"Sorry," she muttered back, shaking off the disturbing memories of a distressed six-year-old and raising the Sonic a little higher so she could better take in his appearance.

A motion she soon regretted, when she spotted his less-than-Doctorish facade.

"Wow," she said softly, fearing her heart was seconds from jumping right out of her chest and running for cover. "You're not lookin' so good. I take it the hunger's getting to you. And … what did you want, again?"

The Doctor sent her a death glare.

"In that order: _thanks_, – take heed of the sarcasm, by the way - _yes_ it is getting to me, and you asked me if we were 'nearly there yet'. Do you want the answer, or not?"

Martha nodded vigorously, momentarily wrong footed by the Doctor's snappiness. But then, fighting off waves of gnawing hunger and struggling to cope with the pains of becoming a vampire would probably piss anybody off, so it was only to be expected.

Or so she told herself.

'_It's nothin' personal,_' she thought, a little worried that her denial would be readable on her concerned features. 'Really, _it's not!'_

Thankfully, the Doctor remained oblivious to her inner turmoil.

"Well then …" he said.

But that was _all _he said. Martha raised her eyebrows.

_What_ she wouldn't give to be back in the TARDIS, right now. Back in the warmth and light, with the reassuring thrum of a living, sentient machine that actually _liked_ her … even though that was impossible.

Because even though she felt for him, _even though_ she sympathised with him, he wasn't half starting to annoy her.

"There's nothin' like making it easy for a girl, is there, Doctor?" she asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes and prodding him in the side in a vain attempt to procure an actual, _helpful _answer from his parted lips.

When the silence spiralled, she began to lose her patience.

"'Well then' … _what_?" she pressed, reigning in her moodiness for fear things would go too far.

Crankiness had never been a good thing, and the fact that she was struggling with a week's worth of sleepless nights - after being on a planet where the word 'comfort' was an insult - meant that the 'not good thing' was unbearably realistic for her.

And suffering from lack of sleep as she was, her reflexes weren't really as good as they were supposed to be. Unprepared for his sudden halt in movement, Martha walked straight into the back of him as he stumbled to an abrupt stand-still. Rubbing at her nose where it had hit the Doctor's shoulder, she glowered at him.

In response, he answered her.

"We're there."

A grin of relief spread across her face and she strengthened the light of the Sonic slightly, concerned when the Doctor flinched at the sudden bright blue light.

"I thought it was only sunlight you couldn't handle?" she asked, curious. The Doctor half-shrugged.

"It doesn't hurt my skin, exactly," he replied, eyes narrowed in apparent surprise, as though he hadn't expected such a bizarre side effect, himself. "It's just really painful on the eyes."

Martha's mouth opened in the customary silent 'O' shape, and she half nodded, restraining a shiver.

"Great," she said, eyeing up their surroundings and struggling to ignore the way the Doctor was attempting to walk around the field of light, rather than through it.

But after a moment, her relief was replaced with confusion. And a _lot_ of confusion, at that.

"Wait a minute …" She paused, unsure. "The plant … the one we need … you said it'd be 'bathed in moonlight'. I'm not seein' any moonlight here, Doctor."

She watched, fascinated, as the Doctor glanced skywards, head tilted back and his fangs glinting maliciously in the light from the Sonic.

So disturbing and yet so sexy at the same time…

Martha ignored the butterflies, feeling an unwanted redness beginning to blossom in her frozen cheeks.

"What are you doing?" she asked, curious.

"Oh, just … catchin' my bearings," he replied vaguely, red eyes wide and searching, as they stared off into the darkness above them.

"Right," Martha said back, turning around and trying to focus on one of the plants closest to her, all the while keeping an image of the strange, spiky plant from the Andrex adverts bright within her mind's eye.

Too bad the plant she was looking at looked nothing like the 'Aloe Vera' plant.

Maybe the next one along ...

"Well, you may want to hurry with that, 'cause the sooner we get this done the sooner -"

But she was interrupted, straightening up after deciding that the plant next to her wasn't the one they were after, either.

A cry of surprise escaped her lips, more like a gargle than anything else, and a moment later she was standing stock-still, mouth hanging open and her neck craning skywards as she watched the Doctor shoot up, rocket-fashion, two ebony, leather-like wings sprouting through suit and jacket and spreading wide as if embracing the darkness around him.

"Oh my God," she murmured, haunted yet amazed at the same time.

A lump rising in her throat, she watched in silent horror as he turned, black wings spread, and hovered above her, two red pinpricks standing out against the blackness. With elegant silence, the only sound being the hardly discernable rustle of his wings, he inclined his head and flipped over, zooming for the ground again and picking up speed.

Zooming towards her.

Screaming, she jumped aside and backed slowly into a tree, tumbling over her feet in her haste to get out of the way.

"Martha!" he screeched, fluttering around and returning to his feet, glaring at her.

"I thought you were _you_!" she screamed back, feeling the hard, damp bark against her back and dearly praying to God that this wasn't about to end badly. She was cornered. So she'd be screwed if it was.

"I _am_!" he snapped indignantly, fangs bared and eyes gleaming. "I wasn't going to hurt you!"

"You could've fooled me! Don't just … _dive_ at me like that! I thought you were attacking me!"

Trembling like a leaf, she relinquished her grip on the branch just above her head and took a tentative step forwards.

"What were you doing, then?" she asked, forced-calmly, raising the Sonic a little so she could see his face clearly.

The Doctor stared at her, desperate to feed but also fully aware that if they could just _finish _this thing, there'd be no need for anybody to get hurt.

He hoped.

"The plant's over this barrier," he said, jamming his eyes shut and trying to ignore her smell, the sound of the blood pulsing through her veins, the look of them standing out like miniature streams against her dark skin …

"What barrier?" she asked, frowning suspiciously.

Waving his hand in the general direction but still refusing to open his eyes, he pointed at it. "There's an invisible barrier over here, bout fifty feet high. This planet is designed for preservation, and there are plants and animals enclosed here that are often hunted but are incredibly rare. This barrier keeps hunters out, and protects the rarer of Minuisa's species from outside interference. Unfortunately, the fact that this is a life-or-death situation means I really _do_ have to get in there, and with a fifty foot wall in our way, I think it's safe to assume the only way in is over the top. Literally."

Martha, her heart-rate returning to something which vaguely mimicked normality, nodded dumbly.

"But if you can fly over, why does it keep out hunters? Why couldn't they just fly over? In their ships, or something?"

The Doctor grinned.

"Well, not that I want to brag but, I'm a genius. They're not. " Martha snorted. "And plus there's a rather nifty advantage to being a vampire. Being 'dead', I'm technically off the radar. The barrier uses some kind of sensor to block living organisms from crossing over it. Because I'm dead, it ain't gonna stop me now, is it?"

Martha nodded, and frowned.

"Isn't it going to block me, then? If I fly over there with you, I'm not going to get through. Last I checked, I wasn't dead ... yet," she added, shuddering slightly.

The Doctor shook his head, raising a white hand to his forehead for a moment and grimacing before answering her properly.

"No, because you're with me. I can cloak you. Don't ask how 'cause I really have no idea. It's cool. It's helpful. It's different. But it's not something that I intend to be able to do forever, so let's just make use of these useful skills and get the Hell out of here before things get really messy."

Unfortunately, Martha's reservations had been far from erased. Staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes, she shook her head a fraction.

"B-but … but why do you have to carry _me_ over there? Can't _you_ just go and get it yourself and then come back for me?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"There's something in these woods, Martha, and I don't trust it. I'd rather you stayed with me."

Martha shivered, automatically rearing towards him as the tone-on-tone voice mesmerised her senses.

Realising what she was doing, she stomped her foot and forced herself to an abrupt stand-still, glaring darkly at him.

"Damnit!" she muttered to herself. "See, that's _exactly_ why I think you should leave me! You're gonna have eaten me before we even land over there!"

The Doctor shook his head vigorously, eyes wide and urgent.

But Martha couldn't meet them.

"I wouldn't," he said firmly, willing her to believe him …

But even he knew that he probably would. No, he wouldn't do it _willingly_ … but they both knew that he had minutes left, at most. And hanging fifty feet in the air, clutching onto her, his teeth inches from her neck … well, they'd be in _his_ territory. She'd be completely helpless.

And even the Doctor couldn't deny that if his control slipped, even for a second, then Martha would be in big trouble.

He blinked and turned to her, furiously arguing with himself as he tried to decide on what was best for her.

If she stayed with him, he'd probably claim her.

But if she was left here by herself … well, there'd probably be nothing left for him to claim.

But his decision was made up for him before he could come up with a compromise.

Blinking his stinging eyes back into focus at the contact, he looked up and found Martha standing inches from his face, eyes fearful but resolute, a pale, shaking hand resting on his shoulder.

"Doctor … I trust you," she said simply, quite obviously scared senseless but trying to hide it as best she could. "God knows I must be crazy but … yeah. I trust you."

Nodding, his voice suddenly refusing to cooperate with him, he forced the hunger back, struggling to focus on her trust for him, her faith in him … if he could keep hold of those, just _keep hold of_ those few tiny shreds of humanity … he might _just_ be okay.

"It won't take long," he told her. "A minute or so. I mean I ... I mean, I-I can't promise anything, b-but -"

She cut him off, a trembling finger pressed firmly to his lips.

"I trust you," she said again, softer this time. Heart-felt.

Gently retracting her finger, she hid her dismay as she spotted the flash of ravenous hunger that momentarily lit up his glowing orbs, and struggled to blot out the way his tongue darted eagerly over his lips as though drinking in the little taste she'd willingly offered him.

"I trust you … And I just hope that that's enough."

"But what if it's not?" he whispered fearfully, for the first time in hours his voice sounding completely his own. One hundred per cent Doctor.

Just for a second.

Martha stared at him warily, his scarlet eyes reflected twice over within her own auburn ones.

But there was nothing else to say.

Reaching her shaking hand out to him again, she gave him a half-hearted shrug and allowed him to take it, her fingers tensing as his frozen digits enclosed firmly around her wrist.

"I trust you," she whispered again, eyes tight shut as she felt his arms encircle themselves securely around her waist., his frozen breath skirting against the skin on her neck, making the hairs stand on end, and long nails scraping gently against her shirt.

'_But what if it's not_?' he'd asked.

Martha could only hope that it _would _be enough. For both their sakes.

"I trust you."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**I'd love to hear what you think, so feel free to comment!  
Next one might be up Monday. Depends how bad a hangover I have tomorrow. Saturday night rules! Doctor Who and _then_ partying all night? I'm in Heaven! (Giddy Dance)****  
**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	8. I Hear Dead People

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thank you **Cute Gallifreyan, AvitarGirl, Emela, AscendingWithTyler, Dagniro Vanaliel, JForward, Here Me Calling, Afw, Freakk66, Syreene **and **Tai Greywing!

**Hmm, a day late. Sorry, was a bit caught up with exams and revision …**

**And to top it all off, my computer was gutted completely, so I've lost half this story … (sobs) … but don't fear, it just means I'll have to type some of the chapters up again. I can remember the plot, so that ain't a problem, but if there's a delay with a chapter, that's probably why.**

**AnyWho, enjoy, dudes and dudettes! I made it especially long just for you! **

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**8.**

So bizarre…

So completely and utterly bizarre.

The feelings, the sensations, the emotions … they were so _surreal _it was unbelievable.

Her feet were dangling fifty feet in the air, her weight was entirely dependant upon another, and her eyes were jammed tightly shut as she whispered to herself over and over again …

It was, by far, the strangest thing she'd ever experienced in her life.

She could feel him, pressing himself as close to her as he dared, as close as she'd allow, his fingers curled tightly into her shirt to keep her from falling out of his arms.

His breath was freezing, chilling to the bone as it melted into her skin, and the twin beating of his two hearts felt somewhat sluggish against her side, almost as though they were finding it extremely hard to keep working.

As her fear mounted, she soon found herself cuddling closer to him, out of fear or hypnosis she couldn't honestly say.

"Oh, not good. This is _so_ not good. This is so _unbelievably_ not good!"

Murmurs ripped away from her by the softly moaning winds, Martha inhaled sharply as the back of her eyelids were suddenly illuminated by a soft but strong white hue.

And there they were ... _just for a second_ ... before vanishing from existence ... quiet, insignificant little murmurs that merged with her soul, sending her senses reeling.

Whispers ... whispers from within her ...

Blinking her eyes open as her curiosity got the better of her, she gasped as she finally took in what was going on around her.

She could see his wings, stretching out behind her, flapping silently against the gentle breeze as he carried her higher and higher, carried her clear of the trees and out into open air.

And there was the moon; shining so bright it was glowing, so bright it was painful to look at straight on.

Ahh, the irony. A full moon, no less.

"Whoa," she whispered, only to wish she'd kept her mouth shut as she felt rather than heard the Doctor turn his head towards her.

Avoiding his gaze, she became acutely aware of just how exposed her neck was, right about now.

Shivering violently, from cold and fear, she forced her eyes closed again and willed herself to drag her trust in him back to the forefront of her mind. If she could only tell herself that she trusted him implicitly, this whole ordeal would be ever so much more tolerable…

But before she'd managed to drill that mantra into her head, they were plummeting.

A tiny scream escaping her lips before she could quench it, she felt the winds whipping harshly at her face as their speed picked up, and her cardigan sleeves were flapping about mercilessly against her frozen arms.

And there, just for a moment … she'd felt him. Felt his nose rub against the skin of her neck, just beneath her ear.

And with it, the strange whispers had returned, clearer, harsher, and much _much_ more menacing.

'_Give in, Martha._'

Twisting violently in his grasp, she snapped her eyes open and turned to face him, eyes wide and terrified.

"No!" she cried, tugging slightly against his death-grip as her fear increased and disposed of her rationality.

He hadn't actually _hurt _her.

Not at all.

But jumpy and scared senseless, _she_ wasn't to know that.

And she paid the price.

The Doctor, caught unawares, was startled to a floating halt, about thirty feet above the ground, his glowing eyes wide and brimming with concern and just the _tiniest_ trace of overwhelming hunger.

And his grip suddenly slipped.

Martha, tugging herself backwards so as to keep her neck as out of range of his teeth as possible, was suddenly hanging, suspended in mid-air, her eyes wide and fearful, reflecting the glowing rays of the moon as they stared at him in terror.

Before she fell.

The Doctor, stunned, was rather slow on the uptake, and it took a heart-wrenching scream from his endangered companion to snap him back to his senses.

"Oh," he whispered, fangs grating against his lips as his eyes widened in shock.

Head bowed and wings spread, he shot after her screaming, flailing form and reached out for her, forcing his wings to obey his wishes and speed up his descent.

The ground was sickeningly close, now.

And Martha's shrieks were deafening.

Eyes watering as the growing winds stung fiercely at them, he gritted his teeth and pursed his lips, stretching his clawed hands out as far as he could without them popping from their sockets.

And as the ground loomed ever nearer, he felt his fingers brush against the soft fabric of her cardigan.

With a cry of determination, he clung onto it and tugged hard, simultaneously slowing her fall and increasing his until he was directly beside her, his arms enclosed around her waist protectively and his head resting in the crook of her neck.

Landing seconds later - his legs shaky enough on their own but failing completely as Martha's gave out in shock beside him - both were sent tumbling to the floor, gasping for a breath that neither felt they'd ever be able to take in again.

Leaning his head back against the dew-drenched grass beneath him, the Doctor let his eyes slide closed and ran a clawed hand through his hair, trying to force his weakening hearts to pick up a normal pace once again.

But to his surprise, he was soon forced to lift a foot clear as Martha raised her head beside him and struggled to untangle her legs from his, scuttling away from him as she finally managed to regain control of her body.

'_Why won't you let him claim you, Martha? You know how much he needs it. You know how much _I _need it._'

Startled by the suddenness of her withdrawal, the Doctor opened one eye and stared at her, frowning.

"Are you alright?" he croaked out, but soon found himself cursing under his breath as Martha hurried forwards again, a hand reaching out to him, her eyes glazing over and her lips parted.

Shaking his head, he knocked her arm down again and winced as she gasped in pain, snapping back to reality in time to clutch painfully at her leg.

"What?" he whispered, rather relieved when his word wasn't laced with its vampiric undertone.

Shaking her head in dismay, tears leaking from her eyes, she pulled up the leg of her jeans slightly and sighed heavily, staring at the manifesting dark bruise that was beginning to blossom on her ankle.

'_Go on, Martha ... one bite, that's all it'd take. Then you're free ... _he's_ free ... _I'm_ free ..._'

Reflected by the moonlight that was washing over the pair of them, the Doctor scrambled up as he spotted the dark bruising himself and sat on his knees, reaching out towards it only to sigh heavily as Martha quickly pulled her leg away.

"I need to look at that," he tried, groaning as her leg shot out again in submission.

Trying to let it run right over his head, as though her breaking will didn't actually bother him, he let his fingers run gently over the swelling and winced with her as she gasped in pain.

"Twisted, at the very least. Might even be broken," he sighed. "Not something I'd accounted for, but it can't be helped I guess …"

And he fell silent, shrugging.

Until he spotted her hand, that is.

She'd reached out on instinct to pull his clawed fingers away from her ankle, and the Doctor relinquished his grip willingly, meaning her outstretched hand had nothing to grip onto.

And the blossoming, scarlet cut was glistening invitingly at him, unprotected by its exhausted owner.

The Doctor's eyes widened in delight, his tongue gliding gently over his fangs, and he flicked his hungry gaze up to see Martha's face.

She had her eyes closed, and her other hand had flown to her head in obvious pain.

'_He's noticed it, Martha. Don't fight him. You can't fight it anymore._'

Martha shuddered, moaning gently and allowing both hands to claw despairingly at her scalp. The voices ... they _hurt_ to hear! They were pounding against her skull, bouncing around her head and making damn sure she could hear nothing _but_ their taunting calls.

But the Doctor didn't need to know ...

'_Oh, but the Doctor _must_ know already, Martha. We're one and the same, remember?_'

"Please," she half whispered, then shook her head violently, rubbing a hand over her eyes as silence fell inside her head, a tiny chuckle vanishing without a trace and leaving Martha wondering if she'd actually imagined all of that.

Concerned, he let his gaze drop to her bleeding hand and was faintly disappointed to see it clasped on top of her leg. 

"What's the matter?" he asked, eyes riveted to where he knew scarlet droplets of blood were slowly gathering in her balled up palm.

"Headache," she murmured, scrunching a bit of hair up as it grew in fierceness.

"Oh," he said softly, hardly listening.

Eyes twinkling malevolently, he reached a palm out.

"Let me see your hand," he said, tones rich with their spooky tone on tone effect.

Martha's palm opened in obedience.

Blinking he looked up to see that her eyes were open, but her expression was vacant, as though she was looking straight through him without actually seeing him kneeling in front of her.

And his eyes fell to the bleeding cut again.

It'd only be for a second …

She'd hardly notice …

And he was _so_ hungry …

'_Let him do it, Martha. Don't fight him. Give yourself up to his beckoning calls ... you know you want to._'

In a second her hand was enclosed within his and his head had lowered to the damaged tissue, tongue springing out in delight and lapping up the scarlet droplets with ravenous delight.

Apparently shocked back into movement, Martha screeched and jumped backwards, stumbling as weight was applied to her injured ankle and falling to the ground again before she could put much more than a few steps between herself and him.

Eyes gleaming in anger, he shot after her, fangs bared and the tiniest smear of red lighting up his bloodless lips. The moonlight seemed somehow brighter than it had a moment ago, and she could see it's pearly white brightness illuminated twice over in his pain-racked orbs.

As his hand gripped onto her wrist, she threw all caution to the winds and kicked out at him with her damaged ankle, paying dearly as pain shot straight up it, but her reward offsetting the hurt as he was sent rocketing backwards, wings spread wide to catch himself.

Shaking his head in disbelief, she watched in terror, backing away until she found herself pressed up against a strange, prickly bush that was acting as a wall - along with its fellows - to enclose this patch of moonlit grass from the outside world.

But he seemed to have caught himself at last.

Eyes wide in horror, a hand raising to tap gingerly at his lips, he stared at her, guilt alight on his ashen features and his hands visibly trembling with self disgust.

"Oh God," he murmured, pulling his fingers away and shuddering as he spotted the tiny scarlet stain that was clinging to them.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry," he whispered, staring at her with pleading eyes. "I honestly didn't mean to do that." His words were rich with revulsion, but nevertheless Martha still found herself clinging to the bramble bush behind her for support, satisfied that she couldn't back into it any further without it puncturing a lung, or something.

'_We enjoyed that, Martha. But it wasn't enough. Not _nearly_ enough. You need to submit. Give in to him. He needs you to. _I _need you to._'

Unable to think of anything to say, she remained silent, shivering from cold and fear, her eyes fixed on his but not a sound escaping her. Her injured hand was soon curled in on itself and safely disguised behind her back.

But the damage had already been done.

"Martha?" he tried, disturbed by her eerie silence.

She blinked at him, but did very little else.

Shaking his head in frustration, he practically _howled_ up at the skies, head thrown back in annoyance and a trembling hand running yet again through his unruly locks.

But after a moment, she finally spoke again, and the Doctor's scarlet gaze dropped to her face in surprise.

"I cut it," she said simply, staring at him meaningfully, her eyes misted slightly but her gaze no longer absent as she considered him thoughtfully.

"What?" he asked, eyebrows knotted in confusion.

"I cut my hand," she said, easing her grip as she felt her fingernails biting into the wound and raising it to show him. "On a bramble. Before."

The Doctor shook his head.

"That's no reason for me to do what I did," he said, struggling to ignore the droplet that was sliding a tentative path down and over her exposed wrist, even as he watched.

Jamming his eyes shut and turning away, he shuddered violently.

"That was a bad idea, wasn't it?" he heard her ask softly, feeling her penetrating gaze burning into his back.

He nodded glumly.

"It's even harder, now," he told her with a sigh. "I don't think I'm going to make it back to the TARDIS in time. Not now, not after that."

Martha nodded glumly, eyes betraying her depression as she sank to the floor, her ankle protesting from supporting her for so long.

"You could … you could _try_, though," she spoke up at last, hopefully. "I mean … we're here, aren't we? And I can't get back over there without you."

Her eyes widened in horror at that thought.

If the Doctor couldn't keep control of himself, if he gave in to it … she was stuck...

Although saying that, she highly doubted she'd survive for very long if the two of them _were _stranded here. Minutes, at most. So it wouldn't really be much of a problem for her, in the end. She wouldn't be around for long enough to worry about it.

And now the situation was glaring at her with appalling clarity.

She really _did_ have nothing else left to lose.

So she may as well push on with what they'd set out to do and keep a hold on that vain possibility that everything might just turn out alright.

'_You know it won't all turn out alright, Martha. Why waste your time? Why waste your energy? Why waste whatever precious time you've got left? Why not just give yourself in? It'll be quick. Might even be painless. The Doctor admires you enough to grant you that, at least._'

Glancing up at him, her head low but her eyes seeking out his in a silent plea, she drank in his reply like poison, gliding effortlessly to her feet as the words washed through her, cleansing her soul.

"I know," he half-whispered, hearts skipping their sluggish beats as he watched her rise silently and make her way carefully towards him.

Stopping just in front of him, but apparently not bothering to reprimand herself for giving in _again_, she extended a tentative hand and touched a finger to his rose-stained lips.

"Has that …" she faltered, her voice cracking. "Will that have made the change permanent? I mean, you drank blood, didn't you?"

To her relief, he shook his head after a moment's contemplation.

"No," he growled, the words seeming less his own as the minutes ticked by. "I don't think so. The scanner said the first kill triggers a complete turning, so I don't think the fact that I … did that … will affect the change except to make the need even stronger."

Martha giggled pitifully, feeling strangely light-headed as his voice drowned her.

"As if it wasn't strong enough in the first place," she mock-whispered, her head spinning and her ankle objecting to being put to use yet again.

Swaying a little, she half-shrugged, eyes sliding closed.

'_That's it, Martha. Take the voice in. Obey it. We're only trying to help you._'

But the movement had sent what little balance she'd had evaporating from existence.

Extending his arms to catch her, his reflexes unusually quick, he set her down with him, his eyes narrowed in concern.

"You're not alright, are you?" he said grimly, gaze flickering up and over her neck before focussing on her pallid face.

"Observant, aren't ya?" she chuckled weakly.

"What is it?"

She frowned, her eyes flitting about beneath their closed lids as she pondered over her answer. The Doctor waited patiently, quite content to admire her stretched neck as he clung to her, offering whatever support she needed.

But his hunger was swiftly silenced at her response as the shock stilled his hearts for a few seconds.

"You," she said plainly, before giggling again. "_You_ are the problem! I can feel things I _really_ shouldn't be! It is so _strange_!" she waved a hand around a little to stress her point, and the hysterical giggles were growing.

"I don't understand what you mean," the Doctor said, placing a hand flat against her head and frowning at the heat radiating from it.

She blinked her eyes open and forced the hazy fuzz from her senses, staring at him through bambi-wide, slightly pained orbs.

'_Give him your blood, Martha. You'll feel better for it, we promise._'

Leaning in slightly so their noses were almost touching, she whispered, "I can feel your hunger. I can feel the blood-lust … And it's so strong, Doctor. It's so strong that I want nothing more than to let you do it now and get it over with."

She craned her neck, as if in invitation, and the Doctor stared at her in shock. Reaching up, he gently gripped her chin and forced her gaze down again, cutting off his access before he could take advantage of her weakness and eagerness to sacrifice herself.

"How can you -?"

But she cut him off.

"I'm your victim, aren't I? The first one. There's a bond, see," she laughed, wiping weakly at her eyes. "And the minutes are ticking passed. The bond's getting stronger as your desire is."

"How'd you know so much?" he asked her, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Her laughter ceased for a moment, and she opened her eyes, a hand flying to her head while the other was hanging weakly over his shoulder.

'_Tell him, Martha. Tell him about me and he'll soon understand. It'll show him that _this really is_ the right thing to do. He needs you, Martha. We both do._'

"Dunno," she shrugged, grinning. "Must be because we're linked now. You know, vampire to victim. The vampire's telling me things …" and she suddenly shuddered, pulling her arm away so forcefully that she was sent flying.

Landing on her back with a dull thud, she rolled onto her front and moaned gently.

"Make him stop," she pleaded, tears leaking, all traces of giddiness vanishing in an instant. "_Please_, make him stop talking to me! It _hurts_!"

The Doctor stared at her in horror, reaching a hand out to her shoulder but pulling away quickly as her shivers grew at the slightest touch.

"What the Hell -?"

"_You're_ doing this to me Doctor, and it _hurts_! Please, _please_ make it go away! He won't leave me alone!"

Ignoring his initial worry for her welfare, he reached out again; only this time he _did_ grasp her by the shoulders, raising her up until he was staring directly into her eyes. The tears continued to fall, but she didn't seem to notice them.

"How can _you_ be hearing things? It's _me_ who's changing," he asked of her, wondering if she knew that answer as well.

She shook her head sadly.

"The voices want me to give in," she said softly. "He's telling me I should let you take me. And it _hurts_ when he speaks, Doctor, it _really_ hurts!"

"Hurts how? Why?"

But she fell silent, shaking her head and stumbling away from him, her ankle crumpling on the first attempt but supporting her on the second.

Suddenly anything _but_ hungry at the moment, the Doctor shook his head too, ridding it of the gnawing guilt that was eating away at his twisted stomach in the place where his need for food had been mere moments ago.

No, seeing Martha suffering like this … he'd lost his appetite.

For the moment at least.

Jumping to his feet, he watched as Martha imitated him, obviously fighting with herself but giving in anyway.

"Right," he murmured, staring around the clearing and glancing momentarily up at the moon, searching for one of the more prominent rays of light and following its path down to a small, sheltered area near a large bush at the edge of the clearing.

"We don't have time for this," he said to himself, hurrying forwards with an anxious glance at Martha, who was standing with one foot curled into the grass while the other was being gingerly tested, a hand gripping at her hair and her eyes tightly closed.

Knowing it was horrible to think, he found himself rather relieved by the timing of this disturbing side-effect.

At the very least, it had snapped him out of his 'let's-eat-Martha' moment.

But for how long, he couldn't be sure.

All he _could_ do was take advantage of whatever limited time he'd been granted.

Scarlet eyes wide and desperation growing by the second, he dropped to his knees and hurriedly ran a hand over the wide hedge of different plants, horror mounting as each bush he passed was proven to be the wrong plant.

"Is this it, Doctor?"

Looking up, he spotted Martha – crouching now, her ankle apparently giving out for the third time in as many minutes - a few feet away from him, having apparently crawled over to help but not quite made it to his side. She'd given up mid-step and was now kneeling beside the prickly bush she'd taken refuge by a few minutes earlier.

She jabbed her head at it in question, clasping a hand securely around it and letting a soft moan pass her lips, avoiding his despairing gaze as the voices in her head began their incessant whispering again.

'_Go to him, Martha. Give yourself up. He needs food, and you need rest. So tired, you are. Why not let him make it all better?_'

Clawing desperately at her hair, she willed herself to ignore them, avoiding the Doctor's gaze as he hurried to her side and reached out for the plant she'd indicated, his clawed hands running expertly over the spiked leaves.

"Martha Jones, you're a _genius_!" he informed her, the first true smile he'd felt in a long while fluttering onto his face.

But it didn't hang around for long.

Extending a sharpened claw, he snapped one of the leaves clean from its fellows, hissing in pain as the nail cracked, having misinterpreted the strength of the plant. Beside the useless stump that had once been a fully-formed spiky leaf, a small black bud withered and died, it's food source having been cut clean away.

The Doctor spared it a pained glance, then turned away, hastily placing the miracle ingredient into an internal pocket.

Turning to Martha, he shuddered, his mouth dropping open in horror as she fell to her knees, leaning her head down and clutching despairingly at her head.

"Please, Doctor," she whimpered. "_Please _make it stop!"

The Doctor stared at her in dismay.

"I can't," he whispered, leaning in front of her and feeling his failing hearts bleeding for her. "I don't know what's happening, I'm really sorry. If we can get back to the TARDIS, we've got the ingredient we needed. Maybe when I change back, you'll be okay."

It was a fleeting hope, but it was better than nothing, right?

But Martha didn't appear to be listening.

'_He's breaking free, Martha. And when his hunger takes over, your death will be painful. He won't be able to control himself. Why not give yourself up now? At least _then_ he'll have enough control to make it quick._'

Martha shook her head frantically, tears leaking like flowing waterfalls as she pressed her burning head against the dew-drenched grass.

The Doctor shivered, reaching out to grasp her shoulder but pulling back, the hunger returning in an instant.

"Oh,." he whispered sadly. Raising his gaze to her face, he forced the pains away and stretched a hand out to tilt her chin up urgently. "Martha?." he called firmly. "We have to go. I need to get you over that barrier and soon. You're gonna have to let me fly you over there."

But Martha shook her head desperately, pulling away and falling backwards as her injured ankle twisted awkwardly beneath her.

"No," she murmured. "I can't. It hurts! He wants me to submit. _You_ want me to submit! I _can't_ do this!"

Eyes closed and head raised pleadingly skywards, he suppressed the growing, gnawing need and opened them again, staring at her with determination.

"Trust me, Martha. You said before that you trusted me. Well, I _need_ you to trust me now. If I can just get you over that barrier, you're safe. You can run on ahead of me, I won't stop you. If it turns out I need you to, you can take the final ingredient and finish that antidote for me, but before then we need to get out of here before I lose it completely. _Please_, Martha," he pleaded gently, shaking her shoulders slightly. "We're _so close_! We _can_ do this! I just need you to stay with me, yeah?"

Blinking her eyes open as the eerie tones washed through her, for once soothing instead of enticing, she focussed on the words, fearfully pushing away the piercing sounds of his vampiric 'other half' as she tried to drink in the strength he was willing her to feel.

This was all wrong.

Why was _she_ the one suffering like this? She had nothing to do with it! Not_ really._

Shaking her head willfully, she half-nodded and mentally forced the strange, taunting voices to the edges of her mind, eyes blinking as they settled pleadingly on his. He nodded encouragingly.

"That's it," he said gently, making use of his strange vocal skills as he realised he'd finally managed to figure out how to control them. Using the tones to his advantage, he demolished his own hunger as best he could and willed her on, hoping to God that he'd managed to get through to her. "That's it. We'll be a minute or so at most. I promise."

But her response as she finally snapped out of it was not what he'd wanted to hear.

"I trusted you before, Doctor," she said sadly, her tears finally ceasing their seemingly endless flow as she wiped angrily at her eyes, frustrated with herself for giving her mind up to the darkness with minimal effort. "Didn't we nearly die trying to get over here? "

Stunned into silence, the Doctor said nothing.

Finally, she nodded in resignation.

"You're right," she said quietly. "Nearly done ..."

She trailed off and sighed heavily, closing her eyes in submission and extending her hand to him for the second time.

"I just hope you can keep your promise, Doctor," she added, voice eerily soft, as his arms looped gently around her waist and tugged her encouragingly to her feet. She blinked and stared up at the moon, waiting for the strange, unnatural sensations to ensnare her senses again as they kicked off, soaring skywards effortlessly. Forcing away the voices as best she could, her final words were whipped away from her and devoured by the gentle wind; "For both our sakes."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Well, there you go, folks. Chapter Eight. Hard to write, - well, hard to write _yet again _due to losing it curtesy of useless ICT systems after completing this fiction - and it's late at night, so sorry if it sucked. I'll probably have to change it again tomorrow, when I'm actually properly awake ...**

**But anyway.  
Next should be up fairly soon!  
Thanksies for reading! And y'all can have a cookie for being so brilliant! **

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	9. Slipping

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thank you** AscendingWithTyler, Laby Anne Boleyn, AvitarGirl, Cute Gallifreyan, Freakk66, Shrink To Be, Syreene, Emela, JForward, Tai Greywing, Dagniro Vanaliel, forestwife, bluemagykdragon **and **Tenth-Doctor-Fan!

**(Begs forgiveness)**

**Sorry! Really, **_**really**_** sorry!**

**I've been having major issues with Writer's Block (can't quite believe that when I'd actually **_**finished**_** this one up until it went and vanished from existence, but what can you do?).**

**Unfortunately, that's on **_**all**_** of my stories. But anyway, I've managed to finish this again, so updates should be back to normal, now. And it's nearly done. And it's late, so if this is hard to follow, that's why. And now I'm just making up excuses that **_**really**_** aren't helping my cause.**

**So I'll just be going.**

**(Runs and hides)**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**9.**

Martha's mind was reeling.

She hardly paid any notice at all to their journey back over the wall, though to her frantically overworked brain, it still seemed to take hours before their feet were gently cushioned by the soft, damp grass on the other side.

Much to both their surprise and delight, the Doctor had managed to keep his mind focussed without once giving in, although rattled as she was, Martha wasn't entirely sure she'd have noticed if he _had_ ripped out her throat mid-flight, anyway.

Ankle crumpling from beneath her, she hit the floor with a soft moan and shook her head forcefully, trying to rid it of the haziness.

It worked, though barely.

Struggling upright, she stared around and was faintly despaired to see the darkness leaking towards them from all sides.

There were no comforting patches of moonlight to be found down here.

Nothing but complete and utter blackness. It was everywhere.

Struggling quickly to her feet and glancing behind her in search of the Doctor's vaguely prominent outline, she sighed with relief when she found him already dragging himself upright not too far away.

But her ease was short lived.

For his scarlet eyes were wide and urgent, staring straight at her as though they could see through to her very core.

As though he was reading her, reading her life, her loves, her _everything_ with just one look.

She blinked anxiously and turned away, rubbing a hand over her eyes and trying to ignore the incessant whispers that were growing in strength again.

But when a hand gripped her shoulder, a hand with claws long and sharp as needles sinking into the skin, she bit back a cry and bolted forwards away from it, turning on her damaged heel and staring at the Doctor in horror.

His eyes …

They weren't his. Not anymore.

Those eyes could _never_ be his.

With an enormous effort of will, he jammed them shut and reached out with a trembling hand, the small but spiky leaf resting on his palm as he nodded firmly, indicating that she should take it.

Take it and run.

There was a shuffle from somewhere behind them, and suddenly Martha needed no more persuasion. Sparing the Doctor an anxious glance, her body protesting to the need for movement, she snatched the plant from his slackened grasp and turned on the spot, belting through the undergrowth with speed and agility she'd thought way beyond her.

And all the while, her head couldn't shake off that tiny, almost insignificant doubt.

That doubt that she had absolutely no idea as to where she was actually going.

Naturally, she ignored it, picking up the pace until she was practically flying through the darkness, her breaths harsh, her ankle so painful she could no longer feel it, a stitch piercing her side and her eyes leaking tears that were freezing to her cheeks as the harsh winds whipped at her face.

There was a loud, piercing cry – an _inhuman_ cry – from somewhere behind her, though whether or not it was the Doctor she couldn't be sure.

And not remotely interested in finding out, she bit down hard on her tongue to keep her mind focussed and hurried on through the trees, nothing but the blackness to accompany her.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

He was slipping. He could feel it, ever present, always there, just behind his thoughts, banging away at the back of his head, trying to overthrow him.

And it was winning, now.

Forced to his knees, clawed fingers tearing at his hair and eyes tight shut in abject desperation, the Doctor shuddered violently and hoped to whatever Gods were watching over them he'd given Martha enough time.

His last coherent thought was a frantic, misplaced '_good luck!_' that never even escaped his chapped, bloodless lips. Then his eyes flickered open again, and with a starved hiss, teeth bared and face set in hungry determination, he jumped quite calmly to his feet and forced his neck back, staring into the darkness above him.

The Doctor was lost, but the Vampire had known he'd fall sooner or later.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, a screech fluttering away on the winds as he flew skywards, bat-wings spread wide as he swooped low, skimming over the lower leaves of the trees around him.

The smell of blood was close, now.

_Her_ blood.

Strong, dripping, enticing.

Silent save for the gentle rustle of his wings, the Doctor flew on through the blackness, keen eyes fixed on Martha's retreating form, a greedy, unearthly smile illuminating his features for a moment before fading into the darkness that consumed him.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Millie didn't know if she'd always been 'Millie'. Perhaps she'd had a different name, a long time ago. But she didn't mind her name as much these days, not one bit when there wasn't even anybody else around to comment on her simple, pronounceable title.

She'd settled with it, and grown into it, and now Millie was perfectly happy with what she had become.

Minuisa's Guardian.

But the problem was … she wasn't the only creature around, anymore. Two new people had arrived, two people and a blue box. She'd watched them emerge from the police box and travel through the planet's biggest forest with uncomfortable urgency.

Travel through _her_ territory without her permission.

And they'd damaged an Elivré plant, – one of Minuisa's finest and rarest species - chopped one of its food stocks clean away and vanished off, _way _off into the night.

And Millie couldn't stand for that.

Smiling, she pulled herself out from the tangling thorns of an endangered, English rose bush – one that had been given a new home on Minuisa just short of a decade ago after dying out on Earth.

Her claws scrabbling at stray brambles, Millie stared eagerly up into the sky.

The vampire was up, up in the air, soaring high and silent and majestic amidst the low-hanging branches. Millie hissed her delight and skittered across the leafy floor, scarlet eyes blazing with burning orange flames.

The Sun had always been alive within all her kind's hearts, its power being their life-blood, and this Kianga was especially hungry. Vampires didn't like sunlight, or so she had been told. And starving as she was, after so very many years of silence, the planet having been uninhabitable for the best part of a century, Millie was hungry.

_Impossibly_ hungry.

Fox-like face glittering delightedly, scarlet but ever-changing eyes seemingly fluorescent in the darkness around her, flaming tendrils of sunlight dancing a merry dance amidst the redness, Millie the Kianga, Minuisa's Guardian, skipped on after the swooping, hunting vampire.

Oh how she would feast after so many years of solitude.

The strangers would pay.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

'_We're free, Martha. Running isn't going to do you any good now._'

Martha almost dropped the plant in shock as the lustful, ecstatic voice echoed annoyingly around her head. Biting back a scream, she pressed on, a hand almost rising to her head before she could pull it back, relying on little more than blind faith to guide her through the blackness.

And it worked.

Her feet skidded to a halt as they met solid ground at last, the firm support of a pathway bouncing up from beneath them as opposed to the uneven, varied and frenzied heights of the bushes she'd fast come to expect to crunch underfoot as she walked.

She'd reached the path again.

So she was nearly there.

Light-headed with giddy relief, she stumbled ever onwards, no longer capable of hearing the reassuring, humming song of the planet through the jeering voices in her head.

Scowling in sheer determination, she picked up the pace and ran blindly on through the blackness, eyes straining for even the faintest of flashes of blue. Reaching anxiously for the key dangling around her neck, it's metal body numbingly cold against her skin, she spared a nervous glance behind her, feeling incredibly anxious but without a clue as to why she should be. There was no sign of the Doctor.

_Yet_.

With a laugh of delight, Martha ground to a sudden halt, hands outstretched to the majestic wood that was standing tall, fingertips from her face. She'd almost walked straight into the TARDIS in her haste.

Smiling exhaustedly, she slammed the silver key home and twisted it carefully, practically flying through the Console Room, leaving the door to slam itself shut behind her.

Never before had she been so relieved to hear the gentle hums of the alien machine. Never before had she been so comforted by the eerie, emerald glow that emanated out in welcome from the central column.

"Hello again," she whispered, voice hoarse as she jumped up the steps and charged through the internal door towards the lab, once again.

Hoping the TARDIS was in a generous mood, she hurried through the network of corridors, not entirely certain on her direction but praying the ship would lend a hand if she took a wrong turning.

'_Dear me, Martha. I thought we told you not to run?_'

Heart skipping a beat, Martha muffled a scream and skidded to an awkward stop, sliding forwards a few feet before securing a hand to the wall for support.

"No," she whispered shaking her head and pressing on. "You're not real, you're not real, you're not real," she told herself, over and over again, mind and heart alike racing.

But the voice just laughed.

'_Oh, am I not?_' it asked jovially, tones light-hearted but intentions all too freakily clear. '_It's such a shame that you think that._'

Martha ignored it, her legs seconds from giving out beneath her but her determination strong enough to rival even the Doctor's.

Pushing the lab door wide, she laughed out in joyous relief as she spotted the cooled concoction, exactly as they'd left it, standing beside the now dead Bunsen and the phial of dark blood.

Dashing to the workbench, she ran a hand over her eyes to dispel the tiredness and forced in deep, oxygenated breaths, trying and failing to quench the stitch that was playing murder against her chest.

Hands shaking, she blinked her eyes into focus again and reached out for the thin slip of paper that the Doctor had been following before their detour.

But as she raised it to eye level, her heart sank and her mind drew a complete blank.

The instructions were written in Gallifreyan. As they had been since he'd first printed them out, all those hours before.

Nothing had changed.

And she had absolutely _no clue_ as to what she was supposed to do with the final ingredients.

Chop them? Cook them? Crush them? Melt them? Drain them?

'_Oh, and you were doing _so _well,_' the vampire mocked, sending a shiver dancing along her spine as she closed her eyes in frustration.

"Right," she whispered cautiously, staring up at the ceiling. "A little help would be nice!" she shouted, eyes wide in expectation.

'_Why should I help you prepare my downfall, Martha? That would be illogical, would it not?_'

Martha bit down hard on her tongue to calm her nerves but otherwise remained silent, blanking as best she could the taunting leers.

Instead, she waited patiently and was rewarded a moment later when the screen on the desk flared into life, an image of the leaf floating into view, hanging tip down, small droplets of its produced liquid sliding downwards and falling off screen.

Grinning, Martha wasted no time and gripped the leaf with both hands, wincing a little as a particularly angry spike met with her cut palm.

'_You're tired, Martha._'

Martha jumped and shook her head vigorously.

'_Yes you are. But you need not worry, we'll be there soon. We'll be there to help you._'

"I don't need your help!" Martha shouted back, momentarily forgetting her assumption that the voice wasn't real. Gritting her teeth and forcefully calming her nerves, the pounding in her head growing as the seconds passed by, Martha grabbed for a small beaker and carefully placed it beneath the oozing tip of the plant in her hands.

Droplet by droplet, the minutes ticking by, a small layer of a crystal-clear liquid slowly started to coat the bottom of the beaker.

Not having the energy to worry about how much she needed, Martha took a gamble and waited until a quarter of the beaker was filled – by which time most of the leaf had become a dry and wrinkled mess, anyway, clearly signifying that there wasn't a right lot left inside it.

'_Don't look now, Martha, but you've got company._'

Almost dropping the beaker in shock, Martha's face paled alarmingly and she hesitated.

"No," she murmured, placing the beaker delicately down onto the work surface and rushing for the scanner again. Staring at the image of the draining leaf almost wilfully, she tapped unknowingly at the keyboard, trying to figure out how to see beyond the TARDIS' four walls.

With a frustrated groan, she slammed her hand down onto the keypad and turned away, glancing anxiously over her shoulder at the empty doorway. But a bleep from the scanner made her turn back and almost fall backwards in shock as the cameras flared into life and a fuzzy, static image of Minuisa's woods misted into view.

And there, against the black backdrop, barely noticeable save for the two scarlet pinpricks, stood the Doctor, fangs bared and wings spread wide, perched precariously on one of a tall tree's thicker branches, legs dangling calmly over the edge and swinging gently back and forth.

Staring intently at the TARDIS.

Martha dearly hoped he wouldn't remember that he had a key. From the looks of things, he wasn't the Doctor anymore.

And her time was almost up.

A desperate cry escaping her parched lips, she stared at the concoction prepared earlier, and then at the liquid she'd just procured from the strange plant.

And needing no further persuasion, she upended the smaller beaker over the larger one and threw it sideways, the glass smashing on the floor as it rolled straight off the counter.

The mixture hissed and spat, and not a moment too soon, Martha threw herself down onto the floor, hands over her ears and her eyes jammed shut as a loud and echoing _bang!_ exploded from the beaker's contents.

Eyes opening a crack, she coughed and stumbled to her feet again, wafting away the clouds of scarlet smoke that were unfurling from the now ruby-shaded liquid.

"Hold on, Doctor," she whispered, glancing anxiously at the scanner in time to see him flutter down rather elegantly from his lofty perch.

'_Hold on to what?_'

Martha's blood ran cold and her hand paused, extended towards the blood sample but not quite grasping it.

"What do you mean?" she asked softly, eyes unfocussed, staring straight ahead as the pounding in her head suddenly paused. As though the voices were waiting.

Dragging out the moment.

'_He's not the Doctor, anymore._'

Martha shook her head weakly, breathing no longer a necessity as she lowered her hand.

'_There's nothing to hold on to. He's gone. There's only me, now. And if you're a good girl, I might just consider making your death relatively painless._'

Hands trembling, she tore despairingly at her hair, her knees buckling as she fell against the counter, the hammering in her head growing as the voice laughed softly in her ear.

Dropping her hands, she paused, barely breathing, then shook her head and straightened up, reaching out mutely for the phial and popping out the cork carefully, sending it arching up into the air before hitting the floor with a muffled thump.

'_Dear, you should be congratulated on your persistence._'

The voice sounded quite delighted, and the throbbing in her mind diminished slightly for a few relief-stricken seconds.

For a few _painstakingly tempting_ silent seconds, Martha thought she was safe.

And then the agony flared up again and sent her crashing to her knees, the phial secured between thumb and forefinger but teetering dangerously as she grabbed her head in outright despair.

'_But you should know that your time's up._'

Biting hard on her lip, the strong, irony taste of blood coating her throat as she forced herself to focus again, she dragged herself upright yet again and willed the pain to ease, sluggish arms flying out towards the beaker. Hooking a finger around the rim, moaning with pain, she tugged it towards her and tilted the lip of the phial over its edge.

But this time she was unprepared for the result, and as the second miniature explosion in the space of two minutes rocked the laboratory's very foundations, she was thrown clean backwards, the shockwaves incredibly powerful and her pain-racked mind unable to take the hit.

Slamming hard into a back wall, the world spinning nauseatingly as she fell to the floor, Martha faintly heard a delighted chuckle ringing a knelling warning around her head.

Then the blackness consumed her.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Head tilted to one side, a low, rhythmic hiss escaping his half-parted lips, the Doctor smiled calmly, red eyes glittering malevolently in the darkness, and reached into a trouser pocket. Retracting his hand, his smile widened as his frozen fingers secured around a strange, silver key.

He didn't recognise it, but he knew what it must have been.

The key to this peculiar blue box.

A … _TARDIS_, was it?

Not that it mattered. The blood was drumming in his ears, his two hearts beating their sluggish funeral call as the moments dragged by, his hunger fast becoming insatiable as his patience began to wear thin.

Clawed fingers reaching forwards, key outstretched, the Doctor was momentarily distracted by a bright flare of light shining out from somewhere behind him. Dropping his hand in surprise, the light suddenly became unbearably painful and he quickly replaced the key into a pocket for fear he'd lose it completely.

Hissing in pain and jumping skywards, wings outstretched defensively, he turned on the spot and had to raise a hand to his eyes to shield them from the intensity of the light creeping out towards him.

Sunlight.

Burning, _scorching_ sunlight.

Screeching, he dropped down behind a rose bush and glared out at the creature that was slowly padding into the clearing, bright eyes blazing and foxish face snarling in contempt.

And as it turned to glare right at him, sunlight bright and piercing within its reproachful gaze, the Doctor became all too aware that without the blood he was yet to take, without the _food _that he'd been denied since turning, without _Martha_ … he didn't stand a chance against it.

His energy was all but spent, his hearts minutes from packing in completely.

And the creature was now positioned between him and the TARDIS, sitting quite casually on its back legs, head twisting from side to side, eyes wide as it carefully searched the darkness for him. Biting back a loud cry of frustration, the Doctor shrunk ever so slightly backwards, retreating into the enveloping darkness that was comfortingly shrouding him, feeling the creature's blazing heat skating across his ashen skin as its eyes flickered over in his direction.

Oh dear.

This was going to be a problem.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**There we go. Next should be up either tomorrow or Saturday. And sorry again!  
**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	10. Escape Routes

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies to **Cute Gallifreyan, AvitarGirl, Laby Anne Boleyn, Shrink To Be, Freakk66, Tai Greywing, AscendingWithTyler, Syreene, Emela, forestwife, Tenth-Doctor-Fan **and **The Noble Platypus!

**Sorry for the three hour delay. We had guests, this evening. Which meant alcohol. Which means … the room's been spinning for the best part of six hours. (Giggles)**

**AnyWho, here is an **_**almost**_** comprehendible chapter. Enjoy!**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**10.**

A low but _painfully_ loud bleep slowly emanated from the TARDIS' walls, growing in pitch and growing in urgency as the seconds ticked by.

Thoughts fuzzy and distorted, the floor swaying like the deck of a ship, Martha groaned softly and slowly blinked her eyes open, raising a weak hand to her head

Taking a few seconds to snap herself back together, she was a little slow on the uptake, and it was only when the lights began to flash erratically that she finally twigged onto what was going on.

'_Martha …_'

Scrambling to her feet, forcing away the nausea, pain and tiredness, she leant hard against the wall and frowned, breaths coming harsh and unevenly.

The voice was back.

But it didn't sound as … _sinister_ as it had before.

Something was wrong.

'_Martha … _please …!'

Stunned, she hurried to the table again, fingers gripping unbearably hard to the edge as she stared at the screen in confusion.

But her puzzlement quickly turned to horror as the blazing light sent her stumbling backwards, hands raised to shield her eyes from the glare.

"Oh no," she whispered hoarsely, abandoning her tasks, abandoning her _fears_, and instead inexplicably drawing up the strength to bolt from the room. "Sunlight!"

The lab lights flickered in warning, vainly attempting to call her back, but she was long gone, sprinting off through the corridors towards the Console Room.

And the antidote simply stood, silent and inconspicuous atop the neatly polished work surface, glinting innocently up at nothing in particular.

Abandoned.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_There_! There it was!

_Movement_!

The _Vampire_!

Giddy with delight, a low, resonating growl escaping her lips, Millie leant back on her haunches, paws clawing at the soft earth beneath her as she all but flattened herself against the floor, flame-engulfed orbs fixed on the rose bush not a leap away from her.

Arching her back, whiskers quivering in anticipation, Millie growled. And pounced.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

In a flash, the Doctor was gone, soaring skywards, wings beating furiously against the blowing winds.

Fluttering down anxiously into what he hoped was a particularly dense patch of branches, he strained his eyes against the glare from below and flinched away from the creature's sunlit orbs as they tilted upwards towards him.

The beams of light were scorching, and he could feel it eating into the skin at his arms. Rubbing them unconsciously, he retreated a little further up into the treetop he'd taken refuge within and watched, faintly despaired, as the creature secured its sharpened claws to the tree's dark trunk and began to pad slowly up through the lower branches, fox-like face smiling in delight for the hunt.

Hissing, equal measures of hunger, hatred, annoyance and fear bubbling just beneath the surface, he blinked his scarlet eyes away and stared at the blue box instead, hoping its occupant would resurface some time soon.

Because if she didn't, he'd be in _big _trouble.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Skidding to a halt beside the console, Martha dragged the scanner around to eye level and felt a shiver attack her spine as she spotted the creature clinging quite easily to a tree a few paces from the TARDIS.

It didn't take a genius to work out who was being hunted.

The problem was … she didn't know what to do, now. She had absolutely _no_ idea what the thing was, nor how to kill it. Not that she'd have been able to justify killing it in the first place. Slamming her fist against a panel, she groaned in frustration.

"_Now what_?!" she yelled, head thrown back in despair.

She hadn't expected anybody to answer her, so when the strange, vampiric voice fluttered into her head, she jumped.

'_Just open the door._'

Martha's eyebrows raised sceptically, and she frowned.

"Why?"

The voice sounded quite frantic, and Martha had to physically work to prevent a smirk from sliding onto her exhausted features.

'_Let us in, and it can't follow! I'd have thought that would be obvious!_'

"Oh," Martha murmured, blushing slightly. She was faintly surprised that the vampire hadn't actually forced her into doing what it wished submissively. She certainly preferred having free will, but the fact that it had apparently forgotten its persuasive skills was rather worrying. Apparently, fear overtook rationality, just as it tended to do with humans.

Perhaps they weren't so different, after all.

Deciding not to comment, she hesitated for a second or too, eyes riveted to the prowling, foxish creature, then hurried for the door and flicked the catch sending the bolt sliding upwards with a resounding _click_! Leaning heavily against it, she braced herself, then pushed, sliding the door outwards and wincing as the heat from outside coated her frozen limbs.

One hand protecting her eyes again while the other gripped the doorframe for support, she stepped out on shaky legs, heart racing and awareness suddenly flaring that she'd successfully diverted the creature's attention.

For it was watching _her_, now.

And the heat emanating from it was _unbelievable_! Even with the wind slapping hard at her face, she couldn't shake away the burning warmth.

"Hello," she whispered softly, squeezing her eyes as closely shut as possible whilst still being able to catch the tiniest of glimpses of what was going on. Raising her head, she scanned the tree that the creature was slowly dismounting itself from, eyes fixed on the topmost branches.

"Doctor?!" she yelled quickly, not liking the smirk spreading across her pursuer's one bit.

It was sliding towards her in silence, one clawed paw in front of the other.

If it hadn't been on the verge of burning her to cinders on the spot, Martha might even have considered calling it beautiful. But as it was, she saw nothing of its prettiness over the two flaming orbs and the gnashing teeth that were padding ever closer to her. "_Doctor_!" she yelled again, a little more desperation laced into her cry behind its initial and underlying tone of fear.

'_What are you waiting for? Get inside, already!_'

Shocked, Martha turned her head slightly to see the Doctor standing beside the console inside the TARDIS, red eyes gleaming maliciously but stance vaguely disinterested as he considered her hungrily.

Mouth dropping open in surprise, she turned back to see the strange creature prowling ever closer, barely an arm's length away from her. Yelping rather ungraciously, she jumped backwards over the threshold at the same time as it pounced.

Weight against the door again, she tugged it after her and jammed her eyes shut, losing her balance and waiting for the creature to scorch her to a crisp. She hit the ground painfully hard but resolutely refused to look up, fearing the end was mere seconds away from torching her flesh from bone.

But when the heat vanished from her face, and a soft thud echoed around the room as the door slid shut again, her eyes finally flew open in surprise and she almost laughed out in relief as they met with cobalt wood, rather than yellow rays of deadly sunlight.

Head falling back in relief, Martha let her eyes slide shut and allowed a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding in to slowly escape her parched lips. Running a trembling hand through her hair, she became acutely aware of the eyes that were burning into her very soul from somewhere not too far away.

Blinking her own slowly open, not entirely sure she even wanted to look, Martha's heart stopped and she jolted upright, already backing up against the doorframe as that piercing, lust-filled, scarlet stare pierced her soul.

The old saying, 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' fluttered absently into her head at that moment. And as she met the Doctor's starved gaze face on, she knew without a doubt that this wasn't who she'd hoped it would be.

This wasn't the Doctor.

Not anymore.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Snarling in despair, Millie clawed desperately at the sealed doors, howling in rage at being so close to and yet so far from her prey.

Eyes wide and blazing, she fell back, biting back angry tears as she slowly prowled around the box three times before padding back to the front doors and sinking back on her haunches.

Hopefully, they'd come back out soon.

Millie didn't want to think of what would happen to her if they didn't. It'd been _so long_ since she'd had company … and if she'd just let two possible feasts slide straight through her grasp … well, she didn't want to think about how long the wait would be if they left straight away.

Months.

Years.

Decades.

Millennia.

Howling in frustrated despair, she glared wilfully at the doors and quelled the rising hunger.

She had to stay positive.

They'd come back out soon, she was sure of it.

Well … she was _hopeful_, at any rate.

She could wait.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

It was happening again.

Just as she'd dreamt it.

She could hear the TARDIS' steady, humming beats, but they weren't soothing as they had been minutes before.

Quite on the contrary; they were _menacing_.

Like they had been what felt like a lifetime ago, when she'd heard their pitch change mere moments before her life had ended.

Fear freezing her heart, Martha jumped to her feet as though scolded and pressed herself firmly against the doors, turning on the spot and fighting between her fear of the Doctor and her fear of the creature outside.

But as she tugged fruitlessly at the handle and _willed_ the doors to open, as she _begged_ them to let her out, she soon realised that they weren't going to budge an inch. The TARDIS was obviously reluctant to let her leave.

Whether that was out of obedience for the Doctor or fear for her welfare with regards to what the creature outside would do to her if she ran into it, Martha couldn't be sure.

Throwing her entire weight against the doors in desperation, trying to overcome the ship's sudden desire for captivity, she let out a hysterical cry and turned on the spot, pressing herself into the very fabric of the beating wood in the hopes she could fall straight through it, instead.

Closing her eyes fearfully, she heard a low hiss from beside the console and she couldn't restrain a small moan of fear. She blinked them open, but she could bite back the sting of tears.

And as her leaking eyes caught sight of the ship's owner, she couldn't restrain the shiver of dread that flew straight up her spine.

Vampire.

One hundred per cent vampire, one hundred per cent hungry. And one hundred per cent out for her blood.

With a strangled scream, she bolted, weaving her way around the console and sprinting for the internal doors.

But fast though her small frame may have been, she'd completely forgotten about the wings that could suddenly sprout from his back as he transformed, swooping after her with unimaginable speed.

One blink later, and he was standing right in front of her, tan trench coat suddenly seeming black as the blackest night as it fluttered about his shoulders, rustling ever so slightly as though caught on a makeshift wind.

And he was standing motionless between her and the door.

Between her and her last chance of escape.

He was staring out at her through her Doctor's handsome face. But the eyes … the eyes weren't his. The eyes could _never _be his.

The darkness … the scarlet orbs she'd expected, the blood red eyes, she could have dealt with, having stared into them for the best part of four hours. But the _emptiness_ … the complete and utter _darkness_ that had absorbed what had been a love-filled, compassionate gaze …

No. The eyes could _never_ be his.

The fangs were protruding from the corners of his once smooth, flawless mouth, and his lips twitched into a starved half-smile as he raised a long, boy finger towards her, clinging onto a stray lock of hair that had fluttered into her face. His smile widening, red eyes glistening maliciously, he reached forwards and gently tucked it behind her ear.

But he didn't release it.

She could feel his smooth, nimble fingers curling it around and unravelling it, just as they had the first time. And his lust-filled stare was as sickening as it had been then, too. As her fearful brown eyes met his ravenous scarlet ones, Martha suddenly realised she couldn't move a muscle.

She simply stood there, hypnotised by his dancing, flame-engulfed orbs. He took a teasingly slow step closer and rested a clawed hand on her arm, wandering calmly around her, gently turning her on the spot and hissing delightedly in her ear.

There was a soft beep from the TARIS console, an anxious, concerned bleep that sounded unnatural amidst the threatening hum of her engines.

Martha barely noticed it.

With a tentative movement so reminiscent of the Doctor that her breath caught in her throat, he retracted his finger, letting the curl of auburn hair drift lazily back over her face. Dropping his hand slightly, his smile widened, the Doctor's usually jovial features seeming completely out of place, all of a sudden. So similar to the familiar smile she'd thought she'd known so well … and yet so impossibly different at the same …

Hang on …

The bleeping ...

The TARDIS was bleeping at them …

Willing her eyes to shift momentarily from his, she shivered as she felt his fingers skirting across her cheek and instead struggled to stare carefully at the console, silently praying for her heart to slow down its frantic beating.

Staring anxiously at the scanner that had silently flared into life, she half-smiled as a hazy shot of the lab-room slid across the screen.

She'd forgotten.

The antidote…

It was _ready_ …

All she had to do was get to it …

"Doctor," she murmured hoarsely, blinking her gaze back to his and biting back a scream as their eyes locked. She shook her head once, gaze dejected. "Doctor, _please_!"

She let her eyes flicker shut as his frozen breath blew gently against the exposed skin of her neck.

Externally, she had to admit she was playing the roll remarkably well, and ignoring her fears as the icy-cold blasts at her neck grew ever closer, she racked her brains for an escape route.

In the dream she'd had, the door had been locked …

Opening her eyes again, she bit back a cry as she felt his fingers shifting her hair over her shoulder almost lovingly. His eyes twinkling malevolently, he motioned her closer with a pallid finger.

"Come," he murmured, using the Doctor's warm, calming voice for his own purpose as it interlinked with the vampiric undertones.

Martha obeyed.

One foot shuffling forwards after the other, she was soon standing so close to him that their noses were millimetres apart.

And that was when she saw it.

Glinting invitingly as the eerie light of the console fell across it, Martha bit down on her lip to quench the smile that was blossoming as she spotted her way out.

The Sonic Screwdriver.

Her gaze sliding up to meet his, eyes misted as she tried to ignore the blood-lust that was slowly enrapturing her, she raised a hand, testing to see if she had free movement or not.

She did. But seeing it as a threat, the Doctor hissed darkly and encircled one of his own hands around her wrist, dragging her closer. With a gasp, she struggled to keep her face impassive as she found her other hand resting against his chest. Gazes fixed, she curled her fingers into his jacket and inched it carefully upwards towards the lip. Towards the azure tip of the Sonic that was poking out from an internal pocket …

His fangs were inches from her neck.

Her fingers were inches from the Sonic.

Eyes closing in concentration, expression blank but mind racing, she braced herself for the sharp sting that was probably seconds away from piercing her skin …

Quick as a flash she pushed her hands flat against his chest and sent him sprawling backwards in shock. With a strangled cry, she turned on the spot and whipped the Sonic out towards the door handle, depressing the button and sending a resounding buzz to echo irritatingly around the room.

Seconds later, and the door clicked open. Tugging on the handle with abject desperation, she pulled it wide as the Doctor growled in frustration and scrambled closer, fangs bared and red eyes narrowed in hunger.

With a shout, she pulled it closed behind her, not doubting that the Doctor would get through but hoping that it would, at the very least, give her enough time to get to the medical suite in one piece.

Legging it through the corridors, abandoning pretences and the need for hushed silence, Martha felt rather than heard the screech of annoyance from somewhere behind her and knew she had seconds at most.

Ignoring the erratic beating of her heart and the stitch that was piercing her side, she pressed on, vanishing into the endless maze of corridors, ears pricked for any sign that the Doctor had caught up.

But she needn't have bothered.

For the clawed hand suddenly securing itself around her wrist told her all she needed to know.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Nearly done, now. Thanks to all you wonderful readers and reviewers! The next instalment will be up **_**real**_** soon!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	11. Acts of Desperation

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thank you shouts to **Laby Anne Boleyn, The Noble Platypus, Cute Gallifreyan, Freakk66, Syreene, Emela, JForward, AscendingWithTyler, Vcarp93, forestwife, Jackie, Tai Greywing, AvitarGirl, Dodie **and **Chris!

**Hmm … a bit later than I'd hoped, so sorry about that. I got called away on another computer job with Dad, so my day was practically gone by the time we got back. Fingers crossed I'll actually get paid for my efforts with that one, then it might just about be worth being dragged away from my writing.**

**Oh … and is anybody else not receiving alerts? I'm beginning to wonder why …**

**And 'oh' again … this is **_**incredibly**_** 10Martha, this chapter. Just thought I should probably warn you … (Grins evilly)**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**11.**

With a strangled yell, Martha stumbled awkwardly to a halt and turned on the spot, biting back a scream as the Doctor's frozen breath hit her face. Caught in his death grip, she winced as he forced her backwards, wrists enclosed and pressed hard against the wall at either side of her head.

A tiny, choked whimper emerged from her blocked throat as he fell heavily against her, effectively cutting of her retreat. Her eyes met his, and as their endlessly swirling, scarlet depths burnt through to her soul, movement was snatched from her limbs.

"Doctor," she whispered, the incessant whispers in her mind suddenly vanishing with little more than a joyous snicker. Almost as though they knew she was theirs, now. They had no further need to taunt her.

They had won.

Or so they thought.

Her mouth the only thing that seemed to be working, she tried to keep her bottom lip from trembling and forced the words from her throat, as difficult as that task proved to be.

"Doctor, please don't do this." She stared at him in despair, rather inclined to realise that he didn't even appear to be listening to her. If this situation had been any less terrifying, she might have found it incredibly rude of him. But as it was, it only fuelled her desperation. Voice rising with every word, she shivered and swallowed hard. "You wouldn't … please, you _wouldn't_! This _isn't you!__ Please_ don't do it!"

"Sorry, Martha," he whispered darkly, tones so unlike his own that Martha's knees buckled. Only the Doctor's grip on her spared her from hitting the floor, though she wasn't exactly sure as to whether or not she was grateful. He leant towards her, fangs bared and gaze one of pleading acceptance.

But the lust, the pure, raw _need_ that shone out with it was enough to wipe her mind completely blank. Unable to move, unable to think, she simply stood there, so furiously, _frustratingly_ close to the med bay, to the _antidote_ … and yet so far from it at the same time.

His red eyes trailed down to her neck and her breath hitched. With a slow, _teasingly_ tentative smile, he lowered a hand, releasing one of her wrists but hardly poking freedom when she couldn't control it herself. It simply flopped limply to her side while his free hand looped across to wipe a stray lock of hair clear of the crook of her neck.

Mouth inching towards it moments later, Martha gave a last ditch attempt at saving herself and intervened before the fangs could sink into her skin, forcing her legs to drop an inch.

Successfully sliding her neck out of reach but leaving her lips to take the contact.

She felt him smile against her, his fangs nipping at her lower lip as he pulled back a little, staring at her with apparent confusion and, she hatefully noted, _hunger_. Her last chance was little more than an act of complete desperation, and without thinking, without plotting, without _meaning_ to, she pressed her own lips to his, momentarily forgetting her plan as she felt him gasp before returning it.

And now the hunger was hers.

The _need_ was hers.

Biting back a moan as he deepened the kiss, it took her blissful mind what could later have become _hours_ to realise that this couldn't exactly be classed as 'escaping'.

But she'd wanted this for _so long_ …

Tasting herself on his lips and faintly becoming aware that she could move, albeit very slightly, she vaguely found herself wishing this could be the Doctor. It seemed such a shame that she was getting the one thing she'd dreamed of, but it wasn't with the one she wanted to share it with.

And that thought woke her up.

She gasped as she felt his fangs nibbling on her lip again, not enough to draw blood but enough to remind her of who this was. Yet while her mind snapped itself back into focus, he seemed not to notice, instead having apparently put the sound down to pleasure, rather than sudden awareness.

Taking advantage of his distraction – and delighting in the fact that whatever spell he'd had her under appeared to have lifted a little – she tried to forget that she was enjoying the experience and instead manoeuvred herself beneath him, pretending to slide a little against the wall as she shifted her foot around.

Looking for his …

Oh God … the things he could do with his lips … she'd never even _imagined_ …

Mind blanked again, she felt sheer disappointment raise its ugly head as he pulled back slightly, scarlet eyes gleaming with delight, the look enough to make her legs weak. Seeing his gaze drop to her neck again, she forced her misted eyes to lock themselves onto his and pulled him back before he could do it, all the while shifting her foot as gently as she could.

_Surely_ it couldn't be _that_ far from his?!

A moment later and she found herself lost again, senses a complete mess and her mind struggling to discern the lust, need, fear and determination that all seemed to want her attention. Her wrist was still tightly encased within his grasp, but she barely noticed anymore. Instead, Martha bit back another moan as she felt her tongue gliding almost invitingly across his fangs as he pressed himself against her.

Which suited her, for more than one reason.

While she'd never actually admit to herself that she enjoyed it, it also meant his foot was that little bit closer to hers …

Feeling his lips shifting, she squeezed her eyes tight shut and prayed she'd not miscalculated. He'd pulled back. His lips were gliding oh so slowly away from hers, across her cheek.

Over her chin.

Towards her neck …

It was now or never.

With an almost indistinguishable whisper of "sorry," she lifted her foot, reflexes unusually quick, and brought it crashing back down. Tilting her head sideways, thinking she was in trouble now but glad that she'd at least tried it, it came as a shock to her, therefore, when he hissed and jumped backwards, hand dropping from hers as he overbalanced while trying to tug his foot free.

She pulled her own back, watched in sheer surprise as he fell backwards, ruby-red eyes glaring at her, then wasted no further time and bolted around the corner, flying into the med bay and slamming the door shut behind her. A tell-tale _click!_ told her it was locked, and with a silent prayer of thanks to the TARDIS – who blinked the lights in acknowledgement but otherwise remained tactfully silent – she dashed for the table and stared at the beaker, eyes alight with desperation and complete despair.

Sure. She _had_ it now.

But what the Hell was she supposed to _do _with it?! He was hardly going to stand still long enough for her to force-feed him it. She had _no_ chance!

Then a thought struck her.

Could she not just _inject_ it? Would that work?

She didn't have a clue.

It was worth a shot, at any rate.

'_If this works, I deserve an instant pass on my exams,_' she thought to herself frantically, hearing the door pounding behind her and jumping out of her skin. She covered it up by running to a cupboard and rooting through it anxiously, her body literally on its last legs but her mind working overtime.

She heard him screech, the sound cutting right through to her soul as she turned to glance despairingly over her shoulder at the door. It was holding fast, no doubt thanks to the TARDIS' intervention … but it wasn't going to hold like that for long.

Growling in frustration, she scrambled to her feet and ran towards the medical side of the room, yanking open a promising-looking cupboard and wincing as she felt the floor tremble in response to a particularly nasty crash from the doorway. How could he even be that strong in the first place ?!

Trying to ignore her racing heart and the blood pounding in her ears, she abandoned neatness and unceremoniously threw boxes, tubes and pill bottles to the floor as she ran her hands over every inch of the cupboard.

Almost laughing with relief but not quite managing to force the sound out as the door trembled on its hinges, she scrambled to her feet again and ran for the table, hurriedly pulling a newly acquired syringe from its wrappings and sliding the trigger back.

She glanced at the beaker for a few seconds, then with a murmured, "oh, what the Hell," she dunked the entire thing into the swirling red liquid, ignoring the tingling feeling it seemed to have on her skin as it danced around her fingers delightedly.

So what if it killed her? As long as she had enough time to stop the Doctor, it was a small price to pay.

Luckily for her, it didn't seem to care about her frozen fingers, choosing instead to fight its way into the syringe as she pulled a needle out of its packet with her free hand, glancing at the door in horror and calling back a scream as she saw the large indent in the centre of it.

There was _no way_ the Doctor could do that willingly ... he _loved_ his ship. Rather unhealthily, Martha thought, though she'd never say that to his face.

But then hunger could do the strangest things to people, there was no doubt in her mind about that. And a newly-turned but starved-for-_hours_ vampire would surely suffer a great deal more than any human ever could.

Her cry of fear finally emerging as little more than a strangled croak, she withdrew her hand and stumbled away from the table, sliding the needle into the syringe with fumbling fingers just as the door finally gave way, hinges pinging clean off and landing with a loud clatter beside one of the room's many beds.

She ignored them.

Turning on the spot, hand with newly constructed and completely prepared antidote carefully concealed behind her back, she blinked and a moment later paid the price when a clawed hand enclosed around her throat and his scarlet eyes were inches away from her own.

"No more games," he whispered dangerously, relinquishing his grip on her throat only to clamp the hand down onto her shoulder and pull her towards him instead.

With a gasp, she tried to keep the stinging tears from slipping over their boundaries as the swirling darkness seemed to darken that little bit further within his eyes.

"No more running away. You've starved me too long, girl."

And Martha's heart sank.

It really _wasn't_ the Doctor, was it?

'_Well, it's taken you long enough to work that out._'

With a faint moan, she closed her eyes, trying to forcibly block out the taunting, leering voices in her head. She'd thought she was rid of them.

Obviously her 'kicking-up-a-fuss' moment had given the vampire enough cause for concern for him to want to make her suffer that little bit more.

And it was working.

Her head seemed seconds from tearing itself to shreds as the incessant murmurs continued to echo through her mind with ferocious sincerity.

'_We told you we'd get you in the end, Martha. Why not make it easy on yourself? Give yourself up. You knew we'd win, you _must_ have done._'

Mind impassively blank, even to her own surprise, Martha couldn't suppress a shudder as he leaned towards her, the hand that had gripped her shoulder now fastened to her waist as he sank his lips down to press against her collarbone.

Already prepared for the pain, she had nothing left to lose.

Only half-concentrating on what her hand was doing, distracted as she was by the strange feeling of numbness that seemed to have passed through her entire body as his lips slowly met at last with the skin of her neck, she threw caution to the winds and gently pulled her arm around, using her thumb to turn the syringe around in her palm before gripping tightly to it and inching it towards his arm.

Doing this blind wasn't going to work …

Any second now, and she'd have had it …

As she felt the tiniest of pricks graze her collarbone, she flicked her hazy, unfocussed eyes down to study her hand in concentration, sinking the needle point first into his arm and at the same time having a rather unwanted flashback of her school days, remembering her TB jab and the hassle the school nurse had had trying to find the vein.

Odd, the things you remembered when your mind decided to desert you.

Was it too much to ask for her to get it right first time?

She knew not.

She couldn't handle this, not now. Her body had long since given up the fight.

Her final conscious movement was the removal of the needle, her practically limp wrist retracting it before letting it slip to the floor, a dead weight.

Then his arm vanished from her waist. Whether that was due to her timely intervention or just the fact that she'd completely missed it and that final act had accomplished little but to enrage him, she didn't know.

Nor did she care.

Scarlet orbs were floating like fireflies before her eyes, the only part of him clearly definable against his misty, fogged-up outline. The room swaying and the floor vanishing from beneath her, she vaguely found herself wishing those red eyes could have been brown. That loving, passionately warm, _Doctorish _brown she so dearly remembered and missed.

That would have been a nice last thing to see.

Red just wasn't his colour.

Then the red was gone.

And Martha Jones was lost before she even hit the ground.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Well, there it is. The end is most definitely in sight. One more to go. Ish … Maybe two ... depends on what my Muse thinks, I suppose.  
**

**But AnyWho.  
What did ya think? Go on, you can say, I won't tell anyone. Honest …**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	12. Red's Not Really Your Colour

**It's Just a Scratch  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanks **Cute Gallifreyan, Laby Anne Boleyn, Lazybones, The Noble Platypus, AvitarGirl, Tai Greywing, AscendingWithTyler, Freakk66, Syreene, stardog252, Vcarp93, JForward, Emela, forestwife, Spockette Gamine Madcap, Dodie** and **Lady Eivel!

**Here we are then, final chapter. It was initially supposed to be two, but I decided to combine them. ****Saves time.**

**I'd like to thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! This story was fun to write, to say the least, but your support made it that li'l bit more fantabulous!  
Cyber-cookies for everyone! And enjoy the final chapter!  
**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**12.**

Pain.

Excruciating, agonising, _unbearable_ pain.

Changing once had been bad enough – at least _that_ time it had been a gradual transformation, one step at a time.

But _this_ …

He could feel it, running through his veins like poison. Dragged back to the surface of his mind as the vampire fell back, hissing and raging in agony, he found himself vaguely musing on how unfair this all was.

It was _because_ of the vampire that they were in this mess, and yet it wanted _him_ to take the full hit? Though he couldn't deny it felt glorious to be inside his own head, once again.

And at least the hunger had diminished slightly.

The pain replaced it but he was sure he could handle that.

Well, that was until it peaked, sending him crashing to his knees, one hand clutching at his head while the other hovered in front of his mouth dabbing desperately at the two retracting fangs as they painstakingly slowly sank back into their original shape.

Tremors racking his sweat-drenched body, he jammed his eyes tight shut and raised his head, neck stretched back as the agony silently consumed him. His wings flexed outwards before shrinking again into his back, flesh and bone rejoining before they vanished completely, leaving behind smooth but devastatingly raw skin in their place.

He clenched his fists, feeling the claws digging into his palms before slowly disappearing, withdrawing back into his fingers and dissolving into nothing.

As one, the Doctor and the Vampire screamed, their voices locked into one reverberating, _piercing_ cry that echoed around the entire ship.

And then silence fell.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The first thing she noticed was the warmth. It embraced her, wrapping itself around her senses and soothing her completely. She smiled slightly, sinking into the comfort it offered with delight.

She was dozing, she knew that much. Shifting between awareness and unconsciousness continuously, not quite sure _where_ she wanted to be, at the moment.

Here was good.

In fact, no ... wherever 'here' was, it was _wonderful_. Warm and cosy and comfortable, with a melodic, tingling hum gliding delightfully around her head during the moments when she'd managed to claw her way to the surface before drifting off again.

A hum she recognised … the TARDIS.

Slowly sliding her eyes open, she blinked them carefully into focus, mind hazy and memories scattered as she struggled to focus on the large circular column standing proudly in front of her. The lights were dim, but the familiar green glow emanating from it was reassuring.

At least she knew where she was now.

Shifting her head up slightly, she turned to study herself, propping her elbows up on the sofa's arm rest and instantly feeling the warmth vanish as the Doctor's trench coat slid from her arms. Staring at it in surprise, she frowned then tilted her head, gaze flicking to the man standing on the other side of the console.

"Evening."

There was a soft chink of metal on metal as something was placed down onto it. Smile slipping, she struggled upright and considered the Doctor warily, her memory snapping back with brute force and sending her senses into red alert.

"D-Doctor?" she murmured, tensing in her chair as her wide eyes burnt straight into his, half-expecting to see the vampire glaring back at her, scarlet orbs wild with hunger and bloodlust.

But they were brown, not red.

The eyes through which he was gazing at her in concern were brown. Beautifully, _compassionately_ brown, just like she'd remembered them. _His_ eyes.

They were really his …

The Doctor nodded carefully, watching in mute silence as she ascertained his sincerity.

And then her face split into a broad smile and her head fell back against the chair, a hand flying to her head. Light-headed with giddy relief, she ran a disbelieving hand over her eyes and straightened up again, sorely tempted to run at him and pull him into a bone crushing hug, but at the same time aware she probably wouldn't even make it to his side.

Smiling tiredly, he wandered around the console to stand in front of her, leaning against it with a foot propped up against the base, arms folded as he considered her carefully.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

She giggled softly and nodded, blinking her eyes open again to study him properly.

"Yeah, fine … I'm just … relieved," she said honestly, realising for the first time just how hoarse her voice sounded. He nodded in understanding, suddenly uncomfortable as she scrutinised him dubiously. "Why'd you ask?"

Martha frowned as he cleared his throat before moving across to her side, gently nudging her feet out of the way so he could sit down. She obliged, frowning a little.

"Well, you've been sleeping for just short of three days. I was beginning to worry."

She scowled at that.

"It's taken you _three days_ to _start_ to worry?" she asked huffily, glaring at him. He shook his head quickly, a tentative half-smile on his face. It didn't linger, though. She rolled her eyes at his sudden disinclination to speak and sighed. "Well, at least that explains my voice," she murmured, more to herself than to him. If she hadn't used it for three days, it was hardly surprising she could hardly recognise it herself.

He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. "Never mind," she said, taking his sudden silence as an opportunity to give him the once over.

He'd washed and changed, that much was obvious. And for all intents and purposes, he looked to be _relatively_ back to normal. But his skin was still incredibly pale and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes as he turned to look at her.

"Are _you_ okay?" she countered, the fogginess having all but lifted from her mind now, leaving it shockingly clear for the first time in _days_.

He paused, then nodded.

"I think so," he said, frowning slightly. "I'm 'me' again, don't worry," he added as he spotted her raised eyebrow. "Probably just tired."

She nodded carefully. Turning away, she glanced anxiously around the room, then frowned.

"Wait a minute, I haven't been in _here_ for three days, have I?" she asked nervously, marvelling at the fact that she could still move after waking up in such an awkward position. To her mild surprise, however, the Doctor blushed a little and shook his head.

"Erm, no. You were in the medbay for most of it. So was I, come to think of it," he added vaguely before continuing. "Anyway, it's just when it came to day three, I wanted you a little ... closer ... just so I could keep an eye on you, you know." He smiled anxiously, then fell silent. Martha nodded, a small balloon of joyous delight expanding within her chest. He'd _missed _her ...

"What do you mean, so were you? Did something go wrong?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"No, no, nothing like that. It just took a while to sort myself out. I changed back alright, minus the excrutiating agony, but it took a lot out of me."

Martha made the customary 'O' shape with her mouth and bit her lip.

"So ... so where is he? The vampire, I mean. Is it dead? Did the antidote get rid of him completely?"

He paused, thinking.

"Well," he started quietly, "not _completely_ gone. I don't think it'll ever be _completely_ gone. But then it can't come back, either."

"Can you hear it?" Martha asked with interest.

He frowned.

"Not _hear_ exactly. It's just a feeling. It's buried away somewhere, well and truly out of reach but not enough for me to forget about it. Confusing, huh?" he added, seeing Martha's raised eyebrows. She nodded mutely, then smiled in relief.

"Well it's gone, Doctor. That's good enough for me," she said, relieved, scratching absently at the back of her head. Unable to handle the silence that fell then, she searched her mind for something else to say."So what happened, then?" she asked softly, but then her eyes widened and she paled alarmingly, eyes glazing over as she fell still. "Oh God," she murmured, running an anxious hand over her neck as she suddenly recalled her last few moments. "You didn't …?"

The Doctor shook his head quickly.

"It never … you know, _happened_. I didn't … get that far." He looked incredibly sheepish, rather like a deer caught in the headlights as he glanced nervously at her neck. He raised a tentative hand towards it, lowering hers slightly before brushing the skin with his own fingers. "There's a bruise, though. It should go down in a few days. But no, I … he … _we _… didn't break the skin. You're fine."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and a smug smile began to tug at the corners of her lips as he pulled his hand away. She pressed gingerly where his fingers had been moments before, then turned to him, smiling innocently.

"A bruise, huh?" she asked casually. He blushed and nodded quickly, avoiding her gaze.

"It might um … _look_ like something else but it honestly isn't what you're thinking it might be," he defended nervously, running a hand through his hair.

"Okay." She grinned and nudged him conspiratorially in the ribs, eyes twinkling mischievously. But with a heavy sigh, she let her face fall as she closed her eyes and rubbed anxiously at the bandage secured around her palm.

"I take it you did this," she went on carefully, opening her eyes again as she rather abruptly realised she hadn't had one on before. He nodded sadly, biting on his lip before turning away, the guilt growing.

"I'm sorry about that," he said quietly.

Martha suppressed a shudder and nodded, her mind wandering.

"I cut it. It was my own fault," she replied vaguely. But the Doctor shook his head.

"You know what I mean, Martha," he said darkly. "And I'm sorry for letting it come to that."

Martha smiled again, turning to him and reaching for his hand in comfort.

"It wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you," she said firmly. "People do strange things when they're deprived. It wasn't exactly you who did it, anyway. The vampire did. And besides, no harm was done," she added as an afterthought, grin brightening.

He hesitated, uncertain, then nodded slowly.

Sensing his melancholy mood, Martha tried to find another change of subject. She glanced at the door, then turned back to him, eyebrows raised.

"Where are we?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Same place," he said simply.

"What? How come?" she asked, surprised. "Is there something wrong?"

He grinned and shook his head.

"Nope," he said brightly, his mood picking up. "But with you off in dreamland and me still recovering, it seemed kind of pointless going somewhere else, and if we spend too long drifting in deep space, we'll soon run out of gas, as it were. So I thought it best to leave it, at least until you came around."

His grin widened, and he studied the door himself.

"And um … It's been a fascinating day of discovery for me, too," he added cryptically.

She scowled.

"Nice to know you've missed me," she muttered darkly, before asking, "and what have you been 'discovering', exactly?"

He said nothing, but instead jumped to his feet and twiddled the scanner around towards them. Frowning, Martha straightened up again and gingerly tested her footing. Swaying a little, she wrapped his coat a little tighter around her small frame and rested a hand against the chair for support before shuffling closer.

"Our little friend, here, has a _lot_ of patience," he said at last, and Martha's eyes widened as she stared at the screen.

She smiled.

"How long has it been there?" she asked, remembering their last encounter with the strange creature.

He grinned.

"It hasn't moved a muscle since I turned the screen on yesterday. Not even the faintest flicker of a whisker. In fact I'm willing to bet it's been sat in that exact same position since the whole 'hunting' kafuffle the other day."

Martha shook her head in disbelief.

Looking at it now, she couldn't quite understand how she'd found it so terrifying before. With its foxish little face and long, mouse-like whiskers, its sunlight bright eyes fixed unwaveringly upon the doorway as it sat back on its haunches, clawed paws curled into the springy ground, it seemed quite harmless, and positively adorable.

She knew better, of course, and while she wasn't particularly afraid of the creature now, it had certainly been a great cause for concern a few days prior. Looks certainly could be deceiving.

"So what is it, then?" she asked, interested.

The Doctor inhaled sharply and blew the breath out through his teeth, a contemplative look on his face as he stared at the scanner.

"Well, it's impossible for a start. That's what I meant when I said it was fascinating. This creature is the last surviving member of its species, and in all honesty, it should be _galaxies_ away from here. Perhaps that's why it survived when the Kiangan race fell. Judging by the fact that Minuisa is otherwise completely uninhabited, I'm willing to bet it was sent here to Guard the planet, protect it from intruders or pirates or hunters. It used to be their food stock, see. For millennia, the Kiangans grew their own crops, turning to herbs and vegetables to try and 'keep the cosmic peace'. They were strongly against aggression and hunting and war."

Martha's eyes narrowed.

"This one must have missed a few vital lessons, then," she murmured, suddenly able to feel the heat from its eyes burning against her skin, much as it had three days ago. But the Doctor shook his head sadly.

"No, it's just been alone for too long. The Kiangans kept themselves to themselves for so long, but it seems nobody, no matter how quiet and contemplative a race they are, can outrun war. Being peacekeepers, they were destroyed with ease, as you can imagine. No weapons, no armies, no means of defence, nothing. They must have sent this one as a last ditch attempt to ensure Minuisa remained unharmed. Perhaps the race as a whole didn't think they'd die out and would still need food supplies. But since the Kiangans and their planet were all but destroyed centuries ago, she," he nodded at the scanner, "must have been alone for an awfully long time."

Martha shook her head and shuddered.

"I'd probably be more inclined to sympathise with it if it hadn't tried to eat us both," she said, stepping away and perching herself on the edge of the sofa again.

The Doctor frowned at her.

"Martha, if you'd been alone for centuries with nothing to eat, I'm quite sure you'd want to sink your teeth into the first person you came across, too. You can hardly blame her. She's been living off the same sources of vegetation since her race died out. And if the last thing she saw of the outside Universe was a bunch of power-hungry egomaniac psychopaths hell bent on destruction and concurring all, she's bound to have altered her philosophies over the years."

Martha shrugged casually, but her gaze softened a little, all the same.

"So what are you going to do? You said its planet's gone. And I can't really see it running around the TARDIS in well-trained-pet mode. It could probably give me a good tan though," she added thoughtfully, staring at the glowing orbs with interest.

The Doctor rolled his eyes but chose to otherwise ignore her last remark. Instead, he bit his lip and frowned.

"I'm not sure. There isn't really anywhere else for the poor thing to go. She's spent so long here that I doubt she'd be able to survive outside Minuisa's environmental conditions. And I suppose she _is_ doing a good job of keeping visitors at bay. Maybe we should just leave her."

Martha sighed, her pity rising despite herself.

"Can … _she_ survive without meat?" she amended at the look he gave her. "You don't know how long it'll be until somebody else a little less fortunate and quick on their feet than us turns up. And she seemed bloody hungry as it was, that's without another thirty odd years or something on top of the wait she's already endured."

The Doctor shrugged.

"Well, she's survived this long," he said, smiling admiringly before flashing Martha a small grin. "Oh, but you've got to admit she's positively _adorable_!"

Martha rolled her eyes but held her tongue, failing to remind him that the creature had very nearly sent his vampiric other-half scorching head-first into Hell. Instead, she struggled to her feet again and carefully shed the Doctor's coat, folding it in half and setting it down over the sofa arm.

"Anyway," she said quietly, clearing her throat a little to dispel the croak. "I'm just going to go and clean up."

The Doctor nodded, flashing her a warm smile. But before she could turn away, he'd abandoned the scanner and stepped up in front of her, not bothering to mince words and going straight ahead with pulling her into a rib-crushing hug.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, pulling back and clamping a hand onto her shoulder. "You saved my life and I know it took a lot to do it."

Martha nodded, breath momentarily catching in her throat as he placed a grateful kiss on her cheek.

"Don't worry about it," she forced out quickly, blushing a little. "You'd have done the same for me."

He nodded, but his smile of gratitude was no less heartfelt. Feeling faintly light-headed again as his blessedly brown orbs danced with a thousand and one emotions, she chuckled a little breathlessly, dropping her gaze.

Then she remembered. And her smile slipped like a tonne of bricks as she turned back to stare up at him anxiously, cheeks burning and her mind drawing a blank all of a sudden. "And … and about what happened before," she started quickly, wondering if he'd even remembered. Seeing his eyes widen and a blush of his own blossom against his pale skin, she took that as a 'yes'.

Flinching, she pressed on, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm really um … I'm sorry for … y'know. It's just I needed to distract you. And it wasn't like I planned it or anything, and I wasn't thinking straight and … you know, it was just so …" but she fell silent, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and narrowing her eyes in irritation. What part of her discomfort did he find so amusing?!

He nodded and cleared his throat again, trying to cover up his grin with a look of sympathetic acceptance.

"It's alright," he said carefully, turning away and running a nervous hand through his hair.

"Yeah," she whispered sheepishly, "I just … yeah, I'd have done anything to snap you out of it."

He nodded again quickly.

"'Course you would've," he said, cursing himself for letting his voice quiver a little.

"Anyway," Martha murmured, turning on the spot, mind dazed and expression vacant, "shower. Back in a bit."

He watched her walk to the door in silence, his smile returning and stretching the entire width of his face. Turning away, he was about to go back to the repairs he'd been in the middle of when she spoke up again.

"Oh, Doctor?" she asked, voice a little more serious than it had been moments before.

"Hmm?"

She'd turned to look at him, a hand on the door behind her but her attention focussed on him, now. He frowned.

"There won't be any lasting damage, will there? No side-effects or anything?"

He opened his mouth in surprise, paused as he contemplated her question, then shrugged.

"Erm … I dunno. I don't think so." He flashed her a bemused smile. "You might find I have the odd craving for steak, though. That's happened to me before. Actually, I think I'm hungry, how about you? Starving, even. Fancy steak? I could just eat a steak, if I'm honest. And I know a great place in the Recklox galaxy, they do the _best_ steaks! Proper quality, and I'm not talking beef …"

"Yeah, sounds great, Doctor," she called quickly before rolling her eyes and turning away.

"Oh, and Martha?"

Sighing, she turned back, half-way out the door and having to strain her eyes to see him as he dashed around the console, back to his manically energetic self.

"What?" she asked, unable to bite back her grin as his face lit up.

"Wear red. You're going to need it."

She stared at him, completely lost.

"Come again?"

He flashed her a cheeky grin, hair ruffled, fingers a flying blur as they zoomed over controls and switches.

"Well, we won't get into where we're going without at least _one_ of us wearing red."

Martha nodded, then narrowed her eyes and asked delicately, "well then, why can't _you_ wear it? Why do I have to?"

He shot her a look, deep, brown and blessedly _normal_ orbs sparkling with enthusiastic delight. Their eyes locked and she was momentarily robbed of breath, speech and movement. His tones a little less his own and a little more … enrapturing … Martha had a sudden and rather inexplicable revelation, wondering mutely just how much of his vampiric power had been properly contained. He was himself, there was no doubt in her mind about that. The antidote had served its purpose, quelling his 'other half' completely … but that hold he seemed to have over her … had he _always_ had it and she'd just never noticed it before? Perhaps their latest mishaps had served to bring it to her attention...

But whatever it was, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd done _something_ right. His ego probably wouldn't be able to take it.

Instead, she sent him a bright smile and a small nod of agreement before turning and hurrying towards her room, his words ringing around her head and the truth sinking in that little bit deeper than his blasé attitude had intended.

Just for a second, she saw his eyes burning scarlet in her mind, their look intense, deprived and ravenous.

A vampire's eyes.

And then she saw them as he'd spoken, that mischievous lilt of his reflected twice over within their swirling hazel depths. Shaking her head, she hurried on through the corridors in silence, smirking as she saw him reply to her question in earnest again before she could clear her mind of the event completely.

"I don't think red's really my colour."

He'd probably never know just how much she agreed with him on that one.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


End file.
